To My King Under the Mountain
by Nox Caligo
Summary: A year after The Battle of Five Armies, Bilbo decides it is time for him to return to the Shire. Hesitant to leave his friends behind, he promises to write to the dwarves as often as he can, especially to Thorin, of whom he holds feelings for that he believes are unrequited. Thilbo/Bagginshield. Slowburn? Rated M for M/M relations, slight language and eventual smut.
1. Beginning of the End

Author's Notes: Hello there! This is a fanfiction begged of me by two of my friends. It's Bagginshield/Thilbo, and I guess you can classify it as slow burning. I'm not sure of the ending quite yet (I have several options) so the rating might get altered accordingly. As usual, if you're uncomfortable with male on male (m/m) pairings, then this isn't for you. This is set post Battle of Five Armies but because my heart can't handle a canon Hobbit story right now, I have them all alive and well. Also, I did my best with the time lapses, but I don't know if they would be entirely correct. Bear with me. And with that, we're off!

* * *

Deep within the halls of The Lonely Mountain, within a room of stone sat a being quite out of place in the darkness; a hobbit. He sat in an overly ornate chair that offered little lumbar support, hunched over a large oak desk. The room that surrounded him wasn't home, but what about his journey out of the Shire had been pleasant or comfortable let alone homely? He was quite content trading in walking all day for a job behind a desk. His back was to the doorway, a bed covered with fur pelts sat behind him to his left, and to his right was a wardrobe in which hung the remainder of his clothes from the journey including the mithril armor Thorin had bestowed upon him.

Dipping his quill into the jar of ink, Bilbo returned the feather to the parchment before him. The night had nearly spent itself, dawn quickly approaching, but he couldn't find a good stopping point. Before him was a several pages account detailing the dealings between the dwarves and the elves after The Battle of Five armies nearly a year prior along with the tale of The Company's quest to reclaim Erebor from Smaug. His handwriting ran across the page evenly as if there were lines they were resting on, but that came from good practice. The dwarves, unused to having to write down much of anything-let alone business negotiations and the like with _elves_- had entrusted the halfing with the task. Bilbo sat at the desk, hunched over, writing by candle light that seemed at the point of burning out. Darkness surrounded him except for the bubble of light he crowded close to. His quill scratched across the pages rhythmically.

'_A small portion of gold was given to the elves for their part in the battle against the orcs, but they seem unmoved by monetary trinkets. To appease them and in an attempt to repair the relation between the races, few of the remaining books containing first-hand accounts of long ago dealings of the dwarves were given to the elves for safe keeping in their library.'_

"I wish I could have hung onto those books," Bilbo grumbled.

'_They left approximately two weeks after the battle, having had their dead buried by the river and their wounded patched up as much as they could. Thorin seems relieved at their departure.'_

"Departure…"

Bilbo sat back in his chair, staring ahead into space while twirling the quill between his fingers. He gave a tired sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Lately he had been feeling his age; the energy that he has shown during The Adventure had surely been a ruse for now he couldn't imagine doing it again.

"But…"

"You should rest now, Master Bilbo," came a familiar voice from the doorway.

This situation had happened nearly every night for a year, so Bilbo was able to resist jumping in alarm. He didn't _have_ to turn to know who it was, but he did so anyway. Thorin stood in the doorway, his normal attire traded for a dark blue robe lined with grey furs from the wargs slayed during the battle. His salt and peppered hair was tied up in a ponytail at the base of his skull and like usual he wore a grumpy look on his face, albeit a lot softer than their first encounter.

Bilbo offered a small smile. "I will, as soon as I finish up."

The returning king raised a brow and advanced into the room. He stood behind the large chair, peering around Bilbo to the words etched across the page. "So soon?"

The hobbit laughed. " 'So soon' he says! King Thorin, surely you jest? I've been working on the account of our quest and The Battle of the Five Armies for nearly a year! I should have and would have been done much sooner if not for certain _dwarves_ requiring my attention!"

Thorin averted his eyes. "Perhaps you should have told my nephews not to disturb you? If you wished, I could have-"

At this Bilbo erupted into rapturous laughter. Thorin was a bit surprised at the volume of the hobbit, but could only smile at the scene. After going through such hardships as The Company had, it was nice to see laughter and merriment not only return to the dwarven halls, but also to the dwarves themselves and especially the hobbit. But even more than that, Thorin Oakenshield enjoyed watching Bilbo laugh with lightheartedness.

"_You_, Thorin Oakenshield, were the most in need of my attention!" Bilbo exclaimed, a grin pulling his mouth ear to ear. "Why, I can't think of a time where I was able to sit more than an hour without being summoned to do something of 'utmost importance'!"

The dwarf gave a chuckle, more than Bilbo had ever hoped to get from the typically stoic King at the beginning of their journey to defeat Smaug.

"I will not deny that perhaps I required you more than I should have," he said. "But in all fairness, my other option was typically my nephews. Could you blame me?"

Bilbo gave a small snort. "Both are adults just as much as I."

The two both began to chuckle at the thought.

"In all seriousness," Bilbo began again, "I've almost completed it. Only a bit more and-"

As he went to dip his quill in the ink pool he found that the ink had been depleted. He immediately frowned.

"Looks as though you must stop now, halfing," Thorin said, still smilingly slightly from the image of his nephews acting their age. "I shall have more ink delivered to your quarters tomorrow morning."

"Before second breakfast I hope."

Another chuckle. "Yes…by second breakfast."

A happy grin appeared once more on the hobbit's face. "I'm so happy to be getting back into more of my hobbit-esque routine. I've lost so much weight since leaving," he said, almost as if he were complaining. "I don't look my same hobbit-y self. Not that I can be blamed for that. Walking for hours upon hours with only perhaps a meal in the morning and at night will do that to any hobbit I suppose."

Thorin who had been heading towards the door stopped. Without turning he said, "Bilbo, you look fine. Don't worry your head over it."

Bilbo, who had been starting to put away his writing implements stopped, Thorin's words finally registering.

"E-Excuse me?" he squeaked nervously.

The dwarf however was already gone out the door by the time Bilbo turned around. With a sigh Bilbo went back to packing his supplies up.

" 'You look fine' he says," Bilbo muttered under his breath. "Overthinking things you are you silly hobbit!"

As he went to move the nearly completed book into one of the drawers of the desk he paused, staring at the leather cover which bore the name 'DURIN' in the middle. He allowed himself to run a finger over the calligraphy.

"You're a fool you are," he continued in a softer voice. Sadder. "He'll never be interested in a boring Halfling who still can barely grasp a sword without impaling himself!"

He slid the book into the drawer, blew out the small flame that had remained burning and headed over to the bed. Moving some of the furs aside, he cocooned himself within the warm hides that Dwalin had skinned for him.

"There's no reason for me here now that they've reclaimed their home," he whispered to himself, half-afraid that within the darkness some spy lurked, waiting to obtain his secret feelings for the King Under the Mountain, feelings that had been slowly building since the middle of their journey. "I had best return soon."


	2. Silence Over Breakfast

Bilbo awoke some time later to a knocking on the door. Without waiting for a reply Balin gently pushed it open. The old dwarf hadn't faired too well during the battle and was still limping from a blow to the legs that he had been dealt by an orc, but aside from the limp he had healed well enough.

"G'morning lad," he said. Bilbo sat up and gave a loud yawn and stretch. In Balin's hand was a new container of ink. He raised it up slightly so Bilbo could see. "I'll just put this on the desk. Come down to breakfast when you're ready; wouldn't wait too long though seeing as Kili and Fili are both awake."

The hobbit smiled gently. "Thank you Balin. I'll be down shortly."

Not but a week ago, Bilbo had slept in later than he had meant, and when he went to eat breakfast, he found each and every plate and platter empty, and Kili and Fili the only ones present. After Bilbo whining from hunger for the better part of the morning, the dwarves agreed to wake Bilbo every morning.

After struggling with another yawn, Bilbo rolled out of bed following Balin's exit. He splashed his face with the water in a basin he kept in the corner, brushed through his curly hair and dressed in his dwarfish style garbs. He didn't quite mind the style- which included baggy coats, pants and lots of fur and leather- but he still longed for the vests and rolled up pants that were stylish in the shire. He missed the colors of greens and yellows that the hobbits held dear while the dwarves wanted nothing but black and blue. In fact, there were a lot of things he missed about the Shire. Bag End being one of them. How he longed for his own bed, his kitchen stocked full of every food a hungry hobbit could desire, his warm hearth, and his books.

"But I'll be back soon, right?" he murmured distantly.

Bilbo made his way down through the twisting tunnels to the dining hall. The floors changed from pathway to pathway, some contained tiles with lovely patterns on them, and others looked like the rock of the mountain had merely been flattened. Torches provided light in the otherwise dark tunnels. It had taken him a couple weeks to be able to traverse the tunnels on his own; on more than one occasion prior to that he had gotten hopelessly lost to the points the dwarves had to send out a search party for him.

Today however he found the dining hall with ease. Just as he was about to push through the double doors before him to enter, an arm hooked under his on either side, pulling him forward.

"Good morning Master Hobbit!" cheered one voice.

"Come sit by us today Bilbo!" the other one implored.

Bilbo sighed as he was pulled into the room towards the long table, on which platters of food had been dished out by Bofur who was on kitchen duty that week. Kili was on his right, Fili on the left, both grinning from ear to ear in a mischievous way that seemed to be normal for them. Without allowing the hobbit to reply they seated him down at the table before taking up beside him. Fili was already scoping out the food and dragging some towards him and Kili was smiling brightly as a morning person would be.

"Did you sleep well Bilbo?" Kili asked. He had fared badly during the battle, but after a good length of time bandaged up and confined to his bed he turned out alright; he had even been able to finally grow in a thick goatee much to his delight. He had also taken to wearing his dark hair up in a ponytail.

"Not as well as I would have like to," he admitted. He picked up his fork and began stabbing some sliced ham onto it followed by some peaches and walnuts.

Fili glanced over, now frowning. "Is there something wrong with your bed?"

"No it's just-"

"Uncle!" Kili shouted out, cupping his hands to his face to extend his voice to the end of the table. "Something is wrong with Bilbo's bed!" He then wore a wicked grin. "Maybe you should check that out-"

Bilbo slammed his foot down on Kili's making the young dwarf yelp. "Quiet you foolish Durin!" he hissed.

"Is something the matter?" came the rough voice of the king from the far end of the table. His steely blue eyes were staring down Bilbo and the tenseness of his shoulders indicated that he was ready to jump up at a moment's notice.

Bilbo gave a nervous laugh. Fili leaned forward, blocking Bilbo's explanation. "Bilbo is acting funny!"

Thorin raised a dark brow at his nephew's accusation. He would never admit it amongst his brethren, but he was always worried for the hobbit's health. Bilbo had been put through a sort of adventure that the average hobbit was not accustom to. Hobbits were the sort that sat in their homes all day, telling tales of old; the most physical labor they had were tending gardens. Bilbo had been trekking with The Company for seasons, had to defend himself from the vicious onslaught of orcs, tiptoe around a dragon, survive traveling down river in barrel and so much more. Hobbits also weren't used to being confined in such rocky, dusty quarters. Thorin was grateful, as were all the other dwarves, but he worried that it wasn't in the blood of hobbits to be so brave or kept in such a dark place. Was Bilbo ailing in some way unbeknownst to the group? Was he as healthy as a good hobbit should be? Fili's exclamation worried him more than any in the room could have guessed.

"Don't pay any heed to your nephews," Bilbo huffed. "They're merely trying to get a rise out of me."

The twins began to laugh. "We succeeded did we not?"

The trio began to bicker playfully with each other. Thorin watched, still submerged in worry over Bilbo's wellbeing. He had been acting a little strange, of that there was no question. But why? What was grating on his nerves almost as much was how friendly Kili and Fili had both become with the hobbit. Of course it was good that they were friends, but there was a line that they were trotting that seemed almost more. And for some reason Thorin found himself gritting his teeth whenever the three were together.

Thorin was suddenly roused from his thoughts when he heard Bilbo pushing his chair back and the hobbit took to his feet. All of dwarves looked at him strangely from their positions around the table. A silence fell over the group.

"Actually, I was planning on making an announcement," he stated.

The King Under the Mountain gestured for him to speak. "Well? What is it Master Hobbit?"

Bilbo took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. With everyone's attention-including Thorin's- on him, he found it hard to break the news. But from deep within his gut he roused the confidence he needed to utter out the words that sent Thorin's fork clattering to his plate.

"I'm returning to the Shire."

Nobody spoke. Not a breath was heard. Fili and Kili looked up at Bilbo from his sides in disbelief and there was a collective stare from the others, especially Thorin.

Kili took one of Bilbo's hands. "Why would you want to leave Erebor?" he asked with distress.

"Please don't leave us," Fili whined, taking the other hand in his. "You've become like family!"

Bilbo looked down to their frowning faces. "I am sorry. Truly, I am. But Erebor is not my home."

"We could make it your home!" Fili protested. Then he paused and looked twice as sad. "Have we not done a good job making you feel at home?"

The hobbit laid a hand on Fili's head. "The lot of you have been wonderful. I have never felt more welcomed into anyone's home before."

"Then w-"Bombur began.

"I miss the Shire," Bilbo admitted, his tone low and sad, enough to make Thorin's heart ache. His eyes swept around the room, connecting which each of the dwarves before settling primarily on Thorin's. "I miss the rolling green hills. I miss the gardens. I miss my books. I miss Bag End. I miss…home."

The Company remained quiet.

"I would love to spend the rest of my life with you all," he began again. "Each one of you has been a better friend than any I knew up until our Journey began. But, my place is not here. It is not in the darkness beneath the Earth. That is no place for a hobbit."

He tilted his head back. He hadn't expected the silence. Bilbo expected violent yells, empty threats. Anything but silence.

"I'm going on one last adventure….back home," he finished.

Fili and Kili both whipped around to face their uncle who was staring at Bilbo with a blank expression.

"Uncle! Do something!" Kili begged.

Fili nodded. "Don't let Bilbo leave…"

But Thorin said nothing. He continued to stare for a couple more moments before averting his eyes entirely. But he said nothing. The twins dropped Bilbo's hands slowly and hesitantly as if a sudden fear of him disappearing before them seized their hearts. Bilbo had hoped in the bottom of his heart for some sort of protest from the king, something that might give him inkling if he felt similar feelings that Bilbo felt for him. But the silence was deafening and the message was clear to the hobbit.

He gave a sad nod to the king and began towards the doors he had used to enter the dining area. "I'm going to put the final touches on the book and start packing."

The doors closed behind him with a soft click.

* * *

Bilbo set the quill down gently and held the book before him.

"I'm…done."

Nearly a year of work, slaving over those pages with quill and ink in hand and finally it was all over. He had reckoned he would have been happier when the book had been complete, but there was a hollow feeling in his chest. With the book's completion, he was no longer bound to Erebor or the dwarves. His lone bag of his belongings was already packed and sitting on the bed, waiting for when Bilbo chose to depart. It was the middle of the day, not that one could tell that under the Misty Mountains; Bilbo's plan was to leave before nightfall and head towards Rivendale for a brief visit with Elrond before continuing on to the Shire.

"Do you really intend to leave?"

Despite the familiarity of the situation, Bilbo jumped. He cast an irritated look over his shoulder at Thorin who was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes lacked the normal harshness and had replaced with something Bilbo couldn't identify.

"Yes."

The dwarf king gave a deep sigh and advanced towards him. "Kili and Fili suggested I should keep you here by force." By then Thorin was before him, staring down at him. The proximity made Bilbo feel heat rush to his cheeks, especially after talk of force. "But that would only push you away, would it not?"

Bilbo nodded mutely. It was hard to gather himself when his nose was being bombarded by Thorin's scent-a mix of leather, earth, and some spicy smell that was unique to the dwarf.

The dwarf king began rummaging around in his pocket. Bilbo cocked a curious brow but said nothing. Out of his pocket he pulled a small metal trinket that glistened in candle light. Thorin reached down and tilted Bilbo's head to the side by pressing his rough feeling thumb against his chin. He clipped the item on Bilbo's slightly pointed ear.

"What-"

"It's an earring clip bearing the coat of arms for the Durin line," Thorin explained. He ran a finger over the metal piece, tracing the swirls cut into it. "It is only to be given to those who are friends of our people…and you, Bilbo, surpass even that; we are in debt to you for helping us reclaim Erebor."

Bilbo felt another rush of blood to his cheeks. But again, he said nothing. Thorin had expected some sort of answer and when he received none he slowly retreated back to the doorway.

"I cannot think of a reason you would want to stay," Thorin mumbled, his voice no more than a rumble in the back of his throat it would seem.

_That's not true._

Bilbo wanted to reach up and run his hands through Thorin's main of black hair, to tug on all the braids, to tell him how he truly felt, how he wanted to stay for him. But not at the risk of being turned down. If Thorin wasn't interested…their friendship would be beyond salvation.

"I've completed the book," Bilbo told him in a flat tone, gesturing at the desk where the book sat.

Thorin offered a small smile. "Thank you, Bilbo."

Bilbo stood before Thorin, wanting with all his heart for something to happen; he wouldn't even protest if one of the brothers came in and pushed them together. He longed for those lips on his, to feel the scratching of his beard against his own soft cheeks. It had taken him nearly the whole journey to come to grips with the fact that his heart was stolen by a dwarf-a male dwarf at that, but he knew he couldn't stand around waiting for something that may never happen.

But time slipped on, and the moment had passed. Bilbo stepped away from him and broke eye contact, as did Thorin.

"We are preparing a going away feast for you," Thorin informed him. "Please attend. It would be best to eat your fill before heading out."

Bilbo looked at his bag on his bed then at the man standing in his doorway. It wasn't like he didn't want to stay, and of course the temptation of food was nearly impossible to resist for a hobbit, but he decided against it. "I don't think I could stay for any longer." Then without meaning to he asked, "Is that why you came in?"

Thorin's heart skipped a beat, but he chose to ignore it. "What other reason could there be?"

A sad smile spread across Bilbo's lips not for the first time that day. "I see," he said in a faint voice, almost defeated.

The dwarf immediately regretted his words, but there wasn't much he could do. Instead of an apology, he gave a short bow of the head and mumbled, "Are you sure you cannot stay?"

"It would be foolish to delay my departure much longer," Bilbo stated, turning away from the dwarf for fear some emotion of longing might break his confident façade. "If I stayed, I would be leaving in the dead of night. I would like to get some distance into my journey back before nightfall."

"I understand. I shall prepare some food to take with you."

"Thanks Thorin-"

But when Bilbo turned around he was gone.


	3. If You Love It, Set It Free

The entirety of the Company, except for the noticeably absent Thorin was in attendance in the main hall along with several other dwarves who had recently returned to their home at Erebor. A satchel of food had been put together for the trip back to the Shire. They included freshly made rolls baked with honey, slices of ham from that morning's breakfast, some carrots and potatoes. Bilbo also took with him the mithril armor shirt he had worn in Erebor and Sting, along with a couple other odds and ends.

Fili and Kili both clung to the hobbit, both whimpering that they didn't want him to depart.

"You're not going to change my mind," he sighed for the thousandth time.

The entire population of the Misty Mountain (which wasn't too much quite yet) followed after Bilbo on his way to the front gates. It was a sad procession, but there was a hope in many that their dear hobbit would return someday. Bilbo was especially downtrodden because of the King's absence.

"Will you write to us?" the duo whined.

The hobbit managed to jiggle them free of his arms. "I wasn't even sure the two of you were even capable of writing," he teased.

Fili scoffed, "Of course we can! We of royal blood are always well versed in all the arts!"

"Would have surprised me," Bilbo snorted with a humorous smile. "But of course I'll write to you both."

Kili grinned from ear to ear. "And write to our Uncle too. He doesn't look it, but he's sad you're leaving Bilbo."

His smile faltered, and it did not go unnoticed by the two brothers. Neither did the ear clip still fastened to the hobbit's ear.

"We're not lying Bilbo," Kili assured him quietly.

"If you're sure he will miss me," Bilbo began in a low voice, "then where is he?"

Neither of them answered.

The grand gates of Erebor creaked open slowly as two muscular dwarves gave them a good shove. Sunlight poured in and many of the dwarves had to shield their eyes with a hand across their brows. Bilbo, two packs strapped to his back crossed over the threshold of Erebor and out into the warm sun. A cool spring breeze greeted him and he could only gaze out over the still snow piled mountains that surrounded him. A blue sky with wispy white clouds seemed to stretch forever. He took in a deep breath; it had seemed like a life time since he had stood in the warm sunlight and had a breath-full of fresh mountain air.

"Well, this is goodbye," Bilbo told them gently before adding, "for now. I'm going to make a brief stop in Rivendale; I'll be sure to send word when I get there."

Kili and Fili both sighed before lunging forward, dragging the unsuspecting hobbit into a shared embrace.

"Goodbye Bilbo!"

"Take care friend! Don't forget to write to us!"

Bilbo smiled and patted their backs. "I won't. I promise you both."

Goodbyes were given to the rest of The Company one by one, hugs were dealt, more promises to correspond to one another, until finally there was no one left. Bilbo stepped back away from the company and gave a low bow.

"Goodbye friends! May you have good health while I'm gone! Don't forget me!"

He glanced beyond the shoulders of the dwarves back into the semi-darkness of Erebor, searching for the fur clad King to perhaps be standing in the doorway, perhaps smiling at him in a silent gesture not to leave. But he found no such sight to greet him.

'I can't stick around forever,' the hobbit reasoned with himself.

The dwarves watched as Bilbo turned and after adjusting the packs on his back, began to walk away, down the great path that led to and from Erebor and out into the wilderness of the Misty Mountains. Several of them knew this day would come, but they had hoped it would be later rather than sooner. Both Kili and Fili instead of watching Bilbo leave fled back into Erebor without a word to anyone.

They ran up a staircase directly to the right of the main entrance, fleeing up it to the point they were nearly tripping over themselves. At the top of the stairs was a door that they found, not to their surprise, ajar. Standing on the balcony, looking out at the hobbit was none other than their uncle. His arms were draped across his chest, long black hair getting tossed about gently in the breeze, his normal scowl missing and its place an expression of hurt and longing.

"He was looking for you," Fili stated.

Thorin's eyes darted to his nephews before sweeping back to the shrinking figure of the hobbit on the road. "I've made a mistake."

Kili advanced slowly towards Thorin. "It's not too late you know. You could-"

"I could _what?_" Thorin asked. The brothers could hear the heartbreak in his words. "I fooled myself into believing he would be here forever, that I would have all the time in the world…"

"He's not dead you know," Fili tried again.

"He's going to be thousands of leagues away," the king snapped. "How could I ever-"

"He promised us he would write-"

"What good will that do?"

Neither of the nephews knew what to say. Thorin continued to stand on the balcony above the road, gazing out the hobbit, longing to cast aside all his doubts that the halfling may not love him, rush down to him and embrace him, begging him to never leave his side, to stay and rule with him. But he had said that he had missed his home.

'If you love something, set it free,' Thorin thought bitterly.

"He said he wasn't going straight home," Kili stated.

Thorin whipped around, glaring at the dark haired dwarf. "_What._"

Kili gulped nervously and stepped back. Fili stepped in. "He said he was going to visit with the elves in Riven-"

"The _elves._"

Despite the elves having come to his aid at the Battle of Five Armies, Thorin still held a bitter resentment against them, albeit lessened from years ago. He spat the words with diluted venom that neither of his nephews believed would ever truly diminish.

'But what could I do?'

With a sigh and one last glance at the hobbit's shrinking form, the king turned and slinked back into the darkness of Erebor. Kili and Fili remained out on the balcony a little while longer, looking out at the horizon. Both felt pain in their hearts, for they knew Thorin's feelings for the hobbit were not unrequited. Neither had seen their uncle care for someone quite like he had for Bilbo in their life time. And the chance for him to be happy was slowly walking away.

"Do you think we should do something?" the younger of the two asked.

Fili shrugged. "What can we do? We can't exactly push them together. That would break everything."

"Hmm."

"And here I thought our uncle had finally found _The One_. How anticlimactic." Fili sighed before trailing after his uncle.

Kili looked out at Bilbo one last time before following after his brother, closing the door to the balcony behind him. It was as the door shut firmly behind him, Bilbo turned back to look back at Erebor one last time, and upon seeing nobody left outside, gave a sigh and continued onward into the tree line.


	4. A Profound Bond

The trek to Rivendale had not been as hard as it had been the first time. Bilbo was able to walk further during the day without breaks as he once had, but he also wasn't pressured to get anywhere within a time limit which eased the weight of each step, or so it seemed to him. He kept along the various water ways as much as could be allowed and was able to create a make-shift fishing rod out of twigs and string and a metal hook that the dwarves had packed for him. Bilbo also made a stew of fish, carrots and potato about half way to the elfish city that lasted him for several days. The forests seemed devoid of orcs and goblins, probably because of their abuse at the hands of the dwarves; Bilbo had no doubt they loomed just out of sight, licking their wounds.

Upon reaching the city he was greeting by Elrond and a couple other elves from his court. They dined lavishly and he was allowed to bathe and rest at his leisure. He strolled through the library during the most of the days he was there, fascinated with the lore of the elves.

He planned to stay for a week at the most. Elrond didn't oppose his presence; in fact, he found it a good time for the hobbit to explain the remainder of his journey to him, although he knew most of it already. And of course the ever talkative hobbit was ready for such a tale. They sat by one of the pools on his last night there, Bilbo smoking some herbs in his pipe while Elrond peered up into the cloudless night sky. The moon was bright, causing the calm waters of the pool to glimmer as if it was filled with liquid silver.

"And so I stayed for a year and worked on a book documenting our experiences," Bilbo finished with a puff of his pipe, creating an oval in the air just as he had always done back in the Shire.

The elf watched him with slight amusement. He never would understand why mortals thought smoking a pipe was a pleasant activity. "And you were fine living in the…depths of Erebor? I was under the impression hobbits liked the sun."

Bilbo smiled sadly as the oval dissipated. "That's part of the reason I left. After the book was done of course. I miss the Shire."

"So you're returning…without any company?"

The way the elf arched a brow made Bilbo pause. "I'm not sure I know what you're implying Master Elrond."

"Was it not obvious?" he asked. "I assumed that you and that foolish king of a dwarf would have become…what's the word those short creatures use? Ah yes, One."

Bilbo flushed red. He continued to puff frantically on his pipe. "I can assure you that the King and I never did anything even remotely like-"

"You misunderstand the term," Elrond said, cutting him off with a slight raise of his hand. "You see, like elves, dwarves believe in taking a husband, wife, what have you, for life."

The hobbit lowered his pipe, gazing at the elf as though enthralled with a fairy tale.

"They beginning by courting, which typically involves the trading of gifts, proving oneself by doing different tasks, and if all goes well marriage insues. It's the same sort seen amongst hobbits and Men, but it typically private matter between the two. Unless they are found out of course." At this Elrond sighed. "Then according to what I have witnessed, it is to be flaunted for all to see."

"Then why-"

Elrond cut him off again with another gesture. "I ask because it seemed quite obvious to me that you two share a…profound bond."

Seeing the halfing's confusion, Elrond gestured at Bilbo's ear.

"Those are not given out lightly, Master Baggins."

The hobbit's fingers reached up and gently began to trace the swirls of the metal.

_It is only to be given to those who are friends of our people…and you, Bilbo, surpass even that._

Bilbo shook his head. "Excuse my bluntness, Master Elrond, but you are wrong. After what I've done to him…stealing the Arkenstone….he couldn't harbor any feelings for _me_."

"I am not usually wrong, Bilbo Baggins," the dark haired elf scoffed. Although he could have continued further, Elrond noted the distant hurt in Bilbo's eyes. A comforting hand on the hobbit's shoulder was all he could offer. "It was a necessity. They all would have been slaughtered unless you intervened, Burglar."

He sighed. In a quiet voice he mumbled "I wish I hadn't been such an idiot. How come I could get up the courage to steal 'the heart of the mountains', but telling him 'Hey, I might like you' was…impossible?"

Elrond managed a smile "The heart is a complicated thing, especially for mortals who do not have long to master its secrets. Do not despair master hobbit," The elf's eyes glanced down to one of the pockets of Bilbo's vest where the hobbit held his closest and most powerful secret. "I have a feeling you will have a long time to uncover the secrets of your own."

The elf king took to his feet and offered his hand to the much younger being. Bilbo took it with slight confusion and was taken to his feet.

"I shall send quill, parchment and drink to your quarters," he stated. "Write to him. Perhaps confessions are not meant to be brought into light in your first correspondence, but write. Let him know you are…within my care."

Bilbo snorted. "He'll love that."

"He may not like your host," Elrond said with a knowing smile, "but he shall appreciate your words. And here, I take my leave. Have good dreams Master Baggins."

The regal looking elf took his leave, ordering ink, paper and drink for Bilbo as he passed by a subordinate. Bilbo retired to his room which over looked the pools. It was a nicely furbished room, more so than his room at Erebor had been. This room contained a larger bed, two wardrobes, a desk that sat before a window overlooking the courtyard, a plush chair, a wash basin, and a table for eating more private meals. Moonlight poured in from the open window as did the cool late spring air. Bilbo hadn't been in his room long before a female elf appeared at his door; silently she handed him a feather, an ink well, several sheets of yellowed paper and a crystal bottle with an amber colored liquid inside before leaving. The hobbit placed each of these on the desk and sat down, suddenly tired. He took the feather in hand and laid out the pages before him. The blankness almost scared him.

"What am I supposed to write…?" he mused. "'Hi Thorin, I'm with the elves you so much hate'…"

To start he uncorked the bottle with a pop and upon realizing he had no cup in which to pour the substance, he merely pressed his lips to the rim and tilted the bottle ever gently upwards, allowing the liquid to slowly trickle down. It was cool when it touched his parted lips, but as the smooth drink hit his throat, it felt as though a fire had erupted in his chest. After an initial bit of coughing, Bilbo felt relaxed and loved the warm feeling spreading through him.

A couple swigs of the bottle later he was dipping his quill into the ink and scratching it across the surface of the paper, his handwriting immaculate even in his increasingly intoxicated state.

"I'll have this done and ready to be sent by morning!"

* * *

By the time that the letter arrived via elf carrier in Erebor, Bilbo had been back in the shire for two, almost three weeks. The elven rider came to the main gate of the grand dwarven city on a beautiful white steed, a satchel strapped to the side of the majestic beast and the rider clad in lightweight green armor. Banners baring the crest of Durin flew from the upper walls and the city that had once been devastated by Smaug was now rebuilt for the most part and even the elf was a bit surprised at how quickly the once barren city had risen like a phoenix from the ashes. He had not the chance to dismount before his sharp hearing picked up the zing of a string belonging to a bow being pulled back, and the shuffle of an arrow being pulled from a quiver.

"Halt elf!" came a young voice from atop the balcony directly over the gate. "State your business!"

The elf smiled to himself; he had expected such hospitality from barbarians like dwarves, but he was not expecting an archer coming from a race that were known for swinging axes. "I am a servant to his Lordship Elrond of Rivendale," he called up, his voice still gentle despite the volume. "I bring a letter for King Thorin of the Lonely Mountain."

"From who?" a second voice asked from the balcony. This one a bit rougher than the first.

"Master Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."

The elf heard the bow tossed to the side with a clatter and the sound of running above him on the balcony. Seconds later the gates were being pushed open by two dwarves, one blonde with a braided beard, and the other beardless but with a flowing ponytail of brown hair. Both were grinning like idiots despite themselves.

"I am Kili."

"And I'm Fili. We're King Thorin's nephews."

The carrier gave a short bow. "Princes. Can I entrust you to give this to your uncle? Master Elrond told me it was important this gets to him."

"Of course, of course," Fili grinned. The letter the elf offered to him was rolled tight like a scroll, tied tight by a thin piece of leather. "You said this was from Bilbo?"

"How was he?" Kili asked as he watched Fili took the letter.

"He left us almost three weeks ago by my guess," the elf estimated, glancing up at the sky and sun as if the answer was there. "While in our charge you can assure your King that he was well fed and cared for before departing for the Shire. He spoke well of you dwarves."

"Kili, please get some refreshments for this elf," Fili told his younger brother, "after all it would only be polite. I shall present this to Thorin."

Kili nodded and motioned for a nearby guard to escort the horse to the stable while he tended to the elf. The much taller being was a bit hesitant to enter Erebor at first, after all, elves and dwarves did not get along by any means, but after riding for such a long time he was in need of a soak in the water and perhaps a bite to eat. As Kili led the elf away, the blonde dwarf took off down the hall, letter in hand, his heart fluttering.

"This might be just what he needs!" he chuckled to himself as he flew down the halls, skating around corners without looking.

Bilbo's departure had done something to Thorin, almost has if the flame of dwarfish pride and fighting spirit was squished. The king spent his days in his room leafing through books with an ever constant frown tugging on his lips. He rarely spoke to any of The Company aside from soft spoken orders. When gold and gems were uncovered further down in the mines and presented to him, he waved them away as though he were not a dwarf. Thorin was a ghost of his old self; where what the fiery leader they had followed through Middle Earth? Where was the king that had led their people to safety when Erebor had been seized by Smaug? Kili and Fili both knew. It's because his "heart" had left home. He missed their dear burglar.

Fili arrived outside Thorin's room and gave three rapid knocks on the door.

"Enter," came a gruff voice from within.

It was dark within. The only light came from a lone candle sitting on the king's desk, casting flickering shadows upon the stone walls. Thorin sat, a book before him from their quest, one that he clapped shut when he saw his nephew. The room was cold, the stove sat unlit, and Fili noted that his uncle had yet to eat the lunch that had been brought to him although the wine bottle was empty. Although Thorin was un-kept, his hair fell unruly past his shoulders instead of having braids, there was still an air of lingering majesty around him.

"Good afternoon Uncle," Fili said gently as one addresses someone who is sick. "I have something that was delivered for you."

Thorin's looked at his nephew crossly. "Delivered?"

"An elf-"

At this Thorin made a snort and crossed his arms. Smiling, Fili continued.

"An elf rode out a letter to us…"

The younger dwarf crossed the room over to his hunched forward uncle. Now closer to the dim light of the candle, he could tell what book he had been looking through; it was the one that Bilbo had wrote. Instead of commenting however, he took his uncle's large callused hand and placed the rolled up letter into it.

"It's from your hobbit."

Thorin's blue eyes widened as he stared at the parchment in his hands. "Bilbo…?"

As he began to unknot the leather strip, Fili quietly excused himself. It was best to give Thorin his privacy. He shut the door behind him with a click, only to come face to face with his brother.

"Well?" the younger inquired. "What of Uncle?"

Fili smiled. "I have a good feeling. And the elf?"

"Currently eating all our vegetables…"

* * *

_To My King Under the Mountain, Thorin,_

_I write to you from my room that Lord Elrond has so kindly given to me whilst I stay and rest in Rivendale before continuing on back to the Shire. It is nice to finally have the time to look around at all their architecture and books without having to hurry and get on my way, but this place lacks a certain hospitality that could be found in Erebor. Homeliness if you will. Or perhaps I just mean it lacks the constant messes and noisy dwarves? You know I'm just teasing, so wipe that frown off your face—don't lie! I know it's there! In any case, I do not feel it necessary to defend my choice of having a brief stay with the elves, but I do however feel it necessary to tell you that my elfish host has been nothing but polite and tolerant, and I wish that there were better relations between your people._

_My intentions when starting a correspondence with you was not merely to inform you of my whereabouts. I do hope you and the others are getting on without me. But I do already miss you all, especially you Thorin. You all remember to eat don't you? By that I mean you eat more than just meat (it is not healthy!). How are Kili and Fili? Are they any more prince-like than when I left them? Doubtful right? Myself, I'm looking forward to returning to Bag End, but at the same time dreading it. I've been away for so long, there's going to be so much to clean and restock! And I know the entire Shire is going to be wondering where I went to; hobbits don't leave the Shire normally unless to visit family nearby. I hope someone has been tending my gardens at least somewhat, although I'm expecting a total disaster. After I get it all up and running you should come to visit. Or would that be impossible? You are a king after all, and I understand you have your own duties to attend to._

_I will write again when I get home if I can, although I'm not sure how long it would take a letter to reach you. Take care of everyone for me Thorin. And make sure you take care of yourself. You're important you know? And kings should sulk and frown as much as you do. Just smile a bit._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Bilbo Baggins_

* * *

It was a short letter, but Thorin held it in his hands as though it were a delicate contract. The writing was perfect except for a couple ink blots down the bottom towards his signature. Had he been debating what to write? Despite himself Thorin found himself smiling like an idiot down at the paper, imagining Bilbo speaking the words to him directly.

Oh how his heart clenched at the thought of the hobbit. The burglar that had stolen his heart and run off with it. But Bilbo hadn't known.

_If only I had told him._

His eyes ran over each word again and again, tracing the pen strokes as they made each letter, when suddenly a realization came over him. With his index finger he trailed beneath the first few words.

"To my king under the mountain…Sincerely yours…"

_My….Yours…._

For the first time in possibly years Thorin felt the heat of a blush rise from his chest to his cheeks and ears. "He called me his…"

The words would leave his mouth. Stunned to silence he was. A spark of hope was ignited in his chest. He leapt from the chair, letter still in hand. Thorin began pulling open all the drawers, rummaging around in each for a quill and paper of his own. From the doorway Kili and Fili watched through a crack, smiling gently.

"Bilbo is exactly what our uncle needs."


	5. Back at Bag End

Author's Note: Hi there! Thanks for the follows/favs/reviews for this fic! This is my first time writing an LOTR/Hobbit fan fic and I find it quite difficult to get the timing right. Like how long it takes to get from place to place and the like. So bear with me!

* * *

The Shire was just beginning to calm after the reappearance of Bilbo nearly two months prior. They had tended to his gardens as much they could, but after the initial year he was gone they figured he was gone for good. With no heir, Bag End sat vacant except for the food they removed from the house. And just as it was almost settled that the Sackville Baggins were getting Bag End like they had always wanted, the adventurous hobbit returned. He wore strange clothes, a combination of elfish wares and dwarven garb, he had lost several pounds, his feet were worn, torn and muddy, and above all there was this devilish glint his eyes that worried many of the hobbits. Bilbo had tasted adventure and the world outside the Shire—he was becoming a Took.

Bilbo of course had to explain why he had gone. He sat people down almost every afternoon when he had visitors and spun his wild tale of meeting elves, battling orcs, out witting spiders and of course his encounter with the dragon. He didn't leave out Gollum, but he didn't mention anything about The Ring; he didn't need any of the hobbits trying to steal it from him. At the part in his story where he talked of Gollum, he had to reach down and tap his pocket to make sure The Ring still was there. It seemed heavier some days, but Bilbo fluffed it off, sure he was imagining it. As for his tale, people weren't sure if they should believe him. The Tooks that Bilbo were related to were known to be the most adventurous hobbits, but encountering a dragon? Most were skeptical.

But Bilbo paid no heed. He had a house to clean. It took no time at all to restock his pantry; his neighbors were more than willing to give him enough until his garden bloomed in the summer. But the dust that had settled over everything was inches thick. He spent every afternoon with a sponge and bucket of soapy water scrubbing over everything from floor to ceiling. But by summer time everything was back in running order. He made room in his wardrobe for his mithral armor and all his dwarven and elfish clothes. It felt strange not to be adorned in furs like he had been while in Erebor. His own clothes made him feel bare in comparison, but he stood out too much in the blue and black dwarf clothing. He was able to also bring something rather special back with him that he immediately made room for. He had a book of pictures of everyone in The Company that Ori had drawn during their journey. He made space on one of his main bookcases for the special book. One page however he tore out with care and framed in his room. He also mounted Sting on the wall in his room—cleaned of blood of course!

Bilbo was glad to be able to sit and enjoy all his meals, and he has especially missed smoking his different weeds; he found himself out of practice being able to make shapes with the smoke. He enjoyed sitting out on his front step, puffing away on his pipe, staring up at the blue sky without having to worry if an orc was going to see his smoke and come to end him. It was on one such day that he caught sight of a young hobbit, probably no more than four or five rushing over to his gate, something in hand.

"Mr. Baggins! Mr. Baggins!"

The hobbit gave a bright smile at the youngster. He was a round faced, hazel eyed hobbit with short blonde hair that had a slight wave to it.

"Samwise Gamgee!"Bilbo chuckled, patting the youngster on the head. "What bring you to my yard?"

Sam handed him a yellow, travel worn paper, wrapped with a red ribbon. "A tall man came and gave that to me. He said it was for you!"

"Tall man…?"

"He was really big!" Sam said, his eyes were large and sparkling. "He had really long hair! Like a girl! And it was blonde like mama's!"

Bilbo rubbed a hand over his chin before gasping out loud. "An elf! In the shire!"

The young hobbit gazed up at him. "Elf…? What's an elf?"

Bilbo patted him on the head. "They're tall, magic people who live in the woods far away from the Shire. I can tell you more about them later Sam. Now you should be off! Your mother is probably looking for you!"

Sam went to leave, but he stopped briefly to ask. "Did all that stuff really happen Mr. Baggins? You really met a dragon?"

"I can tell you all about that too later if you want."

Sam gave an excited giggle and went rushing down the lane towards the Gamgee residence. Bilbo sat back down and untied the letter.

The handwriting was easy to read, not highly embellished like an elf would write, but rather choppy, with sharp points to each letter. The letter was written in black ink, which made it all the more amusing to read the line of salutations. Several words had been crossed out and scribbled through, of them Bilbo could make out his own name, "hobbit" and "to whom".

* * *

_My Burglar,_

_I have received your letter depicting your stay with the Rivendale elves. While you guessed correctly, that I wished you wouldn't have been in their company, I am content to know that you were well received._

_Erebor lacks a certain…charm now that you are gone, or so Fili keeps telling me. The dwarves complain nearly every day that we should re-make The Company and find you once more in the Shire, but I forbad it. We cannot leave Erebor so soon; everyone has a lot of work to do each day without having their head in the clouds. But even I admit, not having you at the table during meals will get some getting used to—although not having a nag around has its perks._

_Now it is my turn to tell you to quit frowning._

_If this letter has found you, it means that the elf who has informed me his name is Aron finally got to you. He was the elf that delivered your letter to me—doesn't seem so bad for an elf. I hope Bag End was not in too much disarray when you arrived. I'm sure your presence did quite upset your neighbors, did it not? After all, you were gone such a long time, fighting orcs, spiders, elves and a dragon. Not to mention returning an important dwarf to his throne. Of which I cannot possibly thank you enough, Bilbo. I wish some days however that I wasn't king. Perhaps then I could visit you without having the burden of worrying over my people and my duties._

_I would like to receive more letters from you, and my nephews are irritated you have not wrote to them as well. I'll look forward to the letters, and once I receive one, I will immediately send a reply, no matter how busy I may be. I will promise you that._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Thorin Oakenshield_

* * *

Bilbo stared at the letter in his heads. His cheeks and tips of his ears burned red as his eyes re-raced over the words again and again. He could hear that deep, gravelly voice speaking too him as if he was right beside him.

"M-M-My B-B-Burglar!" He stuttered over the words, not quite believing they were before him.

The letter made him unbearably happy, but all in an instant he felt his heart hurt. He knew that he had a crush on Thorin; he admired him as a leader, a warrior and more. He was handsome, heroic, analytical and had a strange way of making his heart beat faster when they were close. But he was a king before all else. His duties to his people and to Erebor would always come first. And what was Bilbo? A slightly chubby hobbit that lived in the quiet of the Shire, living in a house nestled between rolling hills. A country bumpkin. The halfling had always wanted to tell Thorin how he felt, but he knew that Thorin probably didn't feel the same. In fact, Bilbo had a feeling that as the other dwarves began returning, Thorin would find himself a Queen to rule beside him.

Bilbo rolled the letter up with a happy smile. If he wrote his reply quick enough, he might be able to catch the elf back on his way back towards Thorin. With that thought in mind, the hobbit retreated back into his house.


	6. The Things I've Done

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the favs and the reviews! I never knew so many people would like this! I'll try to keep updating frequently!

* * *

The months slowly passed until it was nearly the end of autumn. It was then that the same elf that had graced Erebor's king with his presence earlier in the year reappeared. He came on a rainy day, drenched from head to toe, but his face remained stoic as the guards who had been accustomed to him led him through the gate.

Thorin had spent the days since his last letter restoring Erebor to its former glory; the elf could hardly tell that it had once been seized by a dragon. The king looked more regal than ever, wearing a deep blue cape that trailed behind him as he walked, and silver pauldrons sat on each shoulder. Despite the peace he still had Orcrist in its sheath at his waist along with a couple knives. Braids hung like always down his peppered hair, the silver strands being the only testament of his age.

Aron dismounted his horse and walked in long strides up to Thorin directly-who was just within the gates having seen the horse approach from afar-in his hand another letter. Thorin immediately broke into a smile seeing the paper. "Sir, another letter if you will."

Up until that year if someone had told him that he, Thorin Oakenshield, would _thank_ an elf, he would have bludgeoned them to death. "Thank You Aron. Help yourself to whatever you need." But there he was, gesturing an elf to partake of whatever fancied him in Erebor.

With the elf wandering off, Thorin used a knife to cut the leather off the letter, anticipation getting the better of him. The handwriting was still wispy and beautiful, unlike the handwriting of dwarves.

* * *

To My King So Far Away,

I'm glad to hear that you and the others are all well. I think of you all quite often. More often than not if I am to admit it. You asked how it was to return to the Shire, and to answer you it was strange. As much as I wanted to return, when I got here I felt…strange. Almost empty. It feels strange not to be hiking through the mountains with my 'letter opener' at my waist. It is strange to wear green again, and vests and the such. And it feels lonely being back at Bag End by all by myself. I miss you dwarves and your drinking, rowdiness, beards and all. I miss Erebor. I miss sitting beside you for meals. I miss everything. But at the same time I'm glad to be amongst my own things and back out in the sun able to tend to my garden (which was barely anything more than weeds when I got back!). Everyone greeted me when I arrived, but I can tell they're leery of me and aren't fully believing of my tale.

My return has not been so nice in another regard. I cannot sleep! I think my feet itch for more walking if you can believe that! It must be your influence. This winter is going to be dreadful if this keeps up. It is bad enough that I've picked up other habits of yours, I don't need any more than make my neighbors think of me as a dwarf rather than a hobbit! Not that you are not a wonderful warrior and the most charming dwarf, my king.

In other news, Gandalf arrived not too long ago. He stayed for perhaps a week before moving on. We reminisced about The Journey, but other than that we merely spoke of trivial matters. He did help me clean up a bit more; now my hobbit hole is as good as it ever was. Gandalf seemed a bit cheerier now that Smaug has been dealt with, but I can see that he isn't fully at ease—it is as if he knows something is coming but does not say a word about it. I think something is on the horizon Thorin, and the wizard's silence worries me a great deal. But perhaps I am overthinking things, as we hobbits often do. I hope it doesn't have to do with the ring I 'stole' from Gollum. Some days it feels heavier than not; it's a strange object.

Other than these small hiccups, moving back into Bag End has been well.

I hope you are being nice to Aron. I met him in one of our taverns when he came with your last letter; he is a charming fellow! I tried giving him money for his trouble, but he would not accept it. He did however like the stew I made for his travels (it lacked any meat). You should give him something as well. After all, he does have a life outside our correspondence.

I will be awaiting your next letter eagerly.

Yours Truly,

Bilbo

* * *

It was as if Bilbo was walking beside him as he returned to his chambers, dictating the letter to Thorin. His words seemed to jump off the paper. Thorin swallowed hard as he completed his second read-through.

"To my king so far away…" he read aloud. The words made his heart hammer faster. His words seemed so endearing; if only they were words of love and affection like Thorin would _beg_ to hear. He wanted to hear the hobbit tell him…

_Tell me what? 'I love you Thorin'? Even after all I've done?_

His mind began to linger back to when they had first reclaimed Erebor. Venturing down into Smaug's lair had revealed piles of gold and gems that stacked nearly to the ceiling. It had all sparkled so beautifully in the torch light and it seemed to call out to the Thorin to touch it, run his fingers across the smooth surface of the gold coins, to lay on the piles of gems as though they were piles of snow. He was bewitched. And of course the Arkenstone had been the crowning gem. The way it sparkled brighter than a diamond…the true heart of the mountain. And Bilbo had _given_ it to Men and _Elves._ He had been so furious…such anger as he had seen in his father and grandfather before they submitted to their inner demons.

Thorin almost _broke _him.

His beloved hobbit had been dangled over the balcony of Erebor by _his _hand. It was a miracle that Bilbo had found it in his heart to even speak to him after that.

After the Battle of Five Armies, Thorin had been beaten within an inch of his life, yet someone he lived. And after lying on the ground, blood caked on him along with mud and rain, when it seemed as though he was bound to die surrounded by the corpses of orcs, cut off from his kin, those blonde curls came into his swimming vision. The smell of rain and something that was completely Bilbo had filled his nose. _He _had saved him, yelling for help until his voice was hoarse, hands intertwined with Thorin's as though letting go would instantly kill him.

The king snapped back to reality, although he could still hear a dull sort of scream in the back of his mind, the sound of Bilbo yelling for someone to help Thorin.

"He would be a fool to love me…"

"But he does," came Fili's voice from the doorway.

Thorin's eyes snapped to him, trying to hide his embarrassment with a glare.

Fili closed the door behind him and advanced on his uncle. The blonde dwarf wore a simple tunic and trousers not too unlike what he wore during The Journey, but around his neck he wore a couple sapphires that he had found within the newly opened mines.

"You can't give up so easily, Uncle," he said with a smile.

"It's hopeless. I don't deserve him. Not after…"

His nephew patted him on the shoulder before sitting on the corner of his bed. "Bilbo isn't one to retain anger or hate. He's caring, kind, full of understanding. That's why you like him, isn't it?"

_And so much more._

When Thorin didn't reply Fili continued. "He writes to you. That's a sign that he's thinking about you, even while he's leagues away." Fili's face then screwed up in a pout. "He hasn't written _me_ or _Fili_, even though we asked. Do include that in your letter by the way. That Kili and I want _our_ letters."


	7. After Shocks

The pitter-patter of rain on the roof was enough to make Bilbo drowsy. Autumn had found its way to the Shire, as did a cold rain that had been coming down for the past three days, making everything nearly unbearably cold and damp. Slowly the trees were turning gold, red and orange, and began falling to the ground. In the mornings the hobbits woke to frost on their lawns, a harbinger for the winter quick approaching. Bilbo didn't mind this weather. It meant that he could make large pots of soup and heat up things in the oven without his hobbit hole getting unbearably hot.

Which is exactly what he was doing when there was a knock at his door.

Bilbo gave the vegetable soup a few more rapid stirs before covering it with the pot lid and turning down the heat slightly. "Who could that be?"

He made his way towards the front entrance, looked through the peep hole before smiling to himself and unlocking the door.

"Gandalf! Come in! Come in! You're soaked!"

The old wizard shuffled in, making sure to wipe his shoes on the welcome mat before taking them off entirely along with his hat and drenched outer robe. Bilbo took the articles of gray clothing and rushed them into the sitting room where he had a small fire going in the hearth. Piling a couple more pieces of wood on made the fire grow larger, expanding the warmth throughout the room within minutes. Gandalf stood in front of the glowing fireplace, hands outstretched to warm them, his face and feet weary from his travels. Bilbo knew better than to demand where he had been because he knew the wizard would only give him cryptic answers; if the wizard wanted to inform him of where he had been he would do it in his own time.

Bilbo left Gandalf before the fire only to return moments later with a tray of freshly made biscuits and a small dish of strawberry jam he had made during the summer. Gandalf sank down into one of the plush chairs, pulling and ottoman over to rest his aching, old feet on.

"Thank you Bilbo," he said, taking a biscuit in one hand and a knife for the jam in the other.

The hobbit only smiled in response and went to fetch some hot tea for himself and his guest. Gandalf was known around the world for being a harbinger of bad news, a bad omen like a flock of crows. But Bilbo didn't think so. He just brought adventure.

"Come to check up on me, have you?" Bilbo asked as he reentered the room. In his hands another tray, but this one had a tea pot and two cups perched precariously on it. The items were a simple white color with a green ivy pattern creeping down from the insides as if the wilderness was spilling out.

Gandalf managed a small smile. "As always friend."

"Nothing else that you could bother yourself with?" Of course Bilbo was just teasing. "I hear there are a group of dwarves stomping around Erebor. A rough bunch by the sounds of it. Perhaps you should…?"

The wizard let out a loud laugh, nearly spilling his biscuit and all its crumbs onto the carpet. "You! My dear Bilbo! I think you may have the most humor in all of Middle Earth!"

Bilbo placed the cups down on a table within the room and poured Gandalf a cup. If he could be sure of one thing, it was that besides a good pipe weed and riddles, Gandalf the Gray was fan of a good cup of freshly brewed tea. The way his tired eyes gazed into the warm liquid in the cup seemed so content, as if he wasn't a powerful figure but rather a tired old man without a care in Middle Earth. Sometimes Bilbo forgot that the man, his dear friend, was one of the most powerful beings that could be encountered; it both thrilled him and made him nervous to be so close to someone so deadly.

"It is funny you should mention those mischievous dwarves," he said, taking a gentle sip of tea before deciding it was too hot, "I'm on my way to Erebor."

Bilbo had been mid-bite of his own biscuit when the words made him pause. The thought of the long haired king passed through his mind, his eyes that same hard gray-blue looking at him with longing and passion, his mouth quirked in the slightest of smiles, his arms open for Bilbo to-

Bilbo coughed. Those images were ridiculous. "I see. For what purpose?"

"Do friends need reasons for long overdue visits?" the wizard implored. "I haven't seen those rascals since…was it truly so long ago?"

Bilbo gave a faint smile. "You left pretty much after The Battle was over."

"That I did…"

"You said you had a lot of business to deal with," the hobbit added.

Gandalf nodded. "I suppose it has been that long! Almost two years more or less. It seems just like yesterday…But what does time matter to a wizard?" He gave a bark of a laugh. Bilbo didn't laugh, but he did smile sadly into his reflection in his tea.

The two stretched into a comfortable silence. Gandalf sipped his tea leisurely, his mind Bilbo could only assume on what the journey to Erebor would entail. Bilbo's mind was a bit more caught up in the past. The smell of ink as he scribbled down his account of The Journey, the feel of Thorin's hand on his shoulder nearly every day as he leaned over him to survey the progress in the book, the taste of the meats the Bombur cooked in a way that only dwarves seemed able, the sound of the king's deep voice and rumbling laughter. Gandalf's eyes flicked up to find Bilbo frowning, his gaze out on the rainy landscape just outside the window, his tea forgotten in his hands. The distant pain in the hobbit's eyes worried his friend.

"Bilbo…did you ever…?"

The hobbit looked lazily over at Gandalf. Perhaps he could fool the others, the hobbits that didn't know or embrace his Tookish side, but it was obvious the Bilbo was haunted by something. For the first time Gandalf became aware of the dark purple circles that embraced his eyes, the tugging frown, the slacking posture. His dwarven clothes had been replaced by his green jackets and yellow vests, his long pants and furs packed away in favor of capris that showed off his hairy hobbit feet and legs. And instead of The Ring being neatly tucked away in his vest pocket, it now hung on a silver chain around Bilbo's neck.

"Bilbo…"

Bilbo said nothing at first. He looked down into his tea, suddenly feeling rather bare and exposed to the wizard's seemingly all seeing eyes.

"It's bad Gandalf," he whispered after several minutes under his gaze. "I can't sleep. I haven't slept but a couple hours in the past week. It's been like this for some time now."

"Why ever for?" he asked although he could think of a couple reasons.

Bilbo didn't want to admit it. The words that begged to be let out died again and again on his tongue. What would Gandalf think of him? But the way the wizard was looking at him made him second guess himself. And suddenly the words tumbled from his mouth.

"I almost lost him. I almost lost him Gandalf."

His hands had begun to shake violently, enough that Gandalf leaned forward and took Bilbo's tea from him before he spilled any. As soon as his hands were free Bilbo ran them through his dark blonde curls.

"He almost died. And that would have been it. He would have never known-"

He slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide.

He could hear that scream in his head, the same scream he heard night after night.

He had been on the battle field himself, Sting in hand, trying to stay close to some of the stronger elves while he slashed at any orc that came too close. Rain had poured down in a never-ending stream that made it hard for him to see or keep a good grip on his sword. His bare feet dug into the mud and his once beautiful clothes were splashed with blood and soaked with mud and rain. All had been well for the most part. He kept a careful eye on each of his friends. A couple had been served some rather hard blows, but each got up, roaring for another go at the orc who dared hurt them. Bilbo had possessed a feeling in his gut that the battle was going well; victory was going to be at hand at any moment.

That's when he heard it. A scream, deep but filled with pain pierced through the veil of rain and clanking of metal scraping against metal. Over across the bloody battle field he saw Thorin, his sword slipping from his grip, falling to the ground with a clatter, his body riddled with bleeding slashes from an orc that towered over him. Upon seeing him fall, the orc gave a frightening screeched before turning to find its next victim.

Bilbo remembered his world going into slow motion as he stumbled over his own feet and the bodies around him to get to the king dwarf, screaming Thorin's name as he ran. An orc had launched himself at Bilbo after hearing him yelling, but a hail of arrows from a squad of elves had ended his attempt.

When Bilbo had reached Thorin the battered dwarf was going in and out of consciousness. Bilbo slid down to his knees in the muck beside the king. He wasn't sure if it was rain or tears on streaming down his face, but his chest clenched tight when he heard the strangled grunt of the warrior as he lifted his head gently into his lap. Bilbo's eyes darted from the pained expression on Thorin's face, to the multiple gashes the crossed his body. Blood seeped from under his armor, pooling in Bilbo's hands.

Suddenly he snapped into the here and now. Gandalf was watching him with a sad expression, and Bilbo had pulled his legs up close to his chest and had begun threading his hands through his hair. At the realization he halted his hands.

"My dear friend," the wizard began, "I never realized…"

Bilbo coughed awkwardly into his hand. "I apologize, Gandalf. I don't know what came over me…"

His apology was fluffed off. "You love him."

The blatant statement made Bilbo slowly flush a deep red.

"That's the response someone in love would have to seeing their lover nearly die Bilbo," the wizard continued. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

But Bilbo still hung his head. "I have….terrors. When I shut my eyes at night, I see what would have happened if I hadn't gotten there in time. I see-" He gave a choked breath and couldn't continue to describe the scenes that played out every night he attempted rest.

"But you got there in time," Gandalf said in an attempt to calm him. "You need not worry about 'what ifs', because it's all over. The battle has been won. We were victorious. And he lived."

"I know. I know."

Gandalf sat back in his chair, studying the hobbit with great care. Bilbo felt his eyes on him and shifted nervously.

"I know exactly what to do."

Bilbo blinked as though someone had slapped him.

"Excuse me?"

"I know what must be done," Gandalf replied.

He handed Bilbo's tea back into the still slightly shaking hands. Bilbo gripped it tight as if the small cup could anchor him to the here and now. It was obvious he was more than curious about Gandalf's solution, but like asking about where the wizard had been and what he had been doing, Bilbo knew that Gandalf would merely answer him with riddles.

A bubbling noise from the other room made Bilbo bolt upright.

"The soup!" he all but screeched. He fled into the kitchen as though someone set him on fire.

Gandalf smiled gently as he watched the small creature leap from his chair and into the kitchen. He knew now that his trip to Erebor was a necessity rather than a simple vacation like he had intended. There had always been some sort of tension between Bilbo and Thorin, but Gandalf was never sure if either the king or the hobbit were aware of their attractions. Now it became clear that Bilbo at least knew of his own feelings but was never going to act on them.

_That will never do. They would wind up being alone forever out of stubbornness. _

Bilbo came back into the room, sighing with relief because the soup hadn't quite spilled over the side of the pot yet.

"Sorry about that," he said.

"Not a problem. What are you cooking?"

The hobbit's eyes sparkled. The thought of how close he had come to losing his loved one was nudged to the side for a promising conversation about food; no hobbit could resist such a temptation.

"Vegetable soup! It's got onions, carrots, potatoes, green pepper…What else? You know, I can't think of what else I put in it!"

The two began to laugh. "You are forgetting things in your old age!" Gandalf teased.

Bilbo stuck his tongue out in a surprisingly playful gesture. "So says you! And I'll have you know I'm the perfect age for a hobbit! Two and fifty years is perfect isn't it?"

With a slurp Gandalf finished off his tea. "I can't remember. It's been _many_ years since I've been that young."

Bilbo regarded him strangely. He knew that the wizard was old, but just how old was he? Despite his curiosity he found himself instead asking how long the wizard intended to be his honored guest.

"When the rain stops. I'm beginning to detest the rain!" the older man grumbled. "Whether that be tomorrow or four weeks from now I'm unsure. If that's alright with you?"

"That's fine! That's fine!"

"But once the rain stops….it's on to Erebor for me! I have much to do if things are to turn out well!"

Bilbo began to question Gandalf on what exactly he meant, after all, he had a feeling in his gut that it had something to do with him given their previous conversation, but as always, Gandalf merely tossed a few riddles his way and sat back as the hobbit fumed over his lack of answers.

* * *

Author's Note: *spoilers for The Hobbit ahead* I've always had head canon that if Bilbo would have been conscious during the BoFA then he wouldn't have been as "ok" as he was. If a civilian sees a ton of slaughter around them, they're not going to be ok. Hence the extreme nightmares. I also thought that his nightmares wouldn't be bad in Erebor because Thorin was nearby for comfort...now with Bilbo so far away and Thorin out of sight, they've been stirred up again.

As always, thank you for reading! I love reading the reviews you all sent!

Author's Note #2- I created a tumblr if you all are interest! It's going to basically going to be me reblogging stuff I ship and maybe posting updates or some sort of "hey, new chapter coming up soon!" kind of stuff. So if you're interested I'm NoxCaligo on tumblr!


	8. Rain

The rain lasted for three days. Gandalf and Bilbo busied themselves with baking two pies, finishing the soup, standing by the open window in the kitchen and smoking leisurely, and lazing around reading books from Bilbo's collection. The sleeping arrangements were quite awkward for the tall wizard; none of the hobbit's beds were big enough for him to lie down in very comfortably.

It was on his first night there that Gandalf heard the cries. The two of them had parted ways late in the evening. Rain poured down hard just outside the window, pelting against the glass relentlessly. Gandalf found it soothing. He retired to the guest room that Bilbo had prepared for him, shrugged of his robe and getting into a shirt and baggy trousers before slipping into the small bed. Sleep found him easily enough. But somewhere an hour or two later he was awoken by a sound from on the other side of the wall. He remained in bed, staring at the ceiling, struggling to make out what it was over the sound of hard rain beating against the window panes. Soft moans and grumbles could be heard emanating from Bilbo's room, but they were not the sounds of pleasure. Gandalf remained still, his mind still drowsy from sleep and also torn between if he really needed to intervene or not. Suddenly the soft sounds escalated into sharp cries of pain.

Gandalf was on his feet in a moment, scrambling out of his room and into the hallway before gently opening Bilbo's door. Lightning cracked outside allowing for a brief illumination of the room. The room looked normal enough. Bilbo was underneath his quilt, wrapped up like a baby. But as Gandalf approached he saw the scene for what it truly was. The hobbit's eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth clenched, sweat beaded on his forehead. His small hands gripped the edge of the quilt as though it were his lifeline. As Gandalf approached Bilbo thrashed suddenly to the left onto his side, bringing his knees up closer to his chest as he did so.

"N-No! Don't-" he cried out.

The wizard frowned deeply, even more so when he saw the glimmer of gold dangling from his neck.

"Please! You can't…"

It pained Gandalf to see his friend suffering. But his inner demons were his own.

Bilbo's hand fumbled for his own throat and panted as though he were suffocating. His other hand stretched out across the bed, trembling.

"Please…stop…"

The name he uttered was almost too soft to hear.

_Please stop, Thorin._

The hands to the neck, the pleading to stop. Gandalf put two and two together and realized Bilbo was reliving his near death experience at the hands of the dwarven king. It had been when Bilbo had handed the Arkenstone over to the Elves and Men, and the gold sickness had Thorin deep within its influence. Bilbo had been hung over the side of Erebor and if not for the pleading of his nephews and friends, Thorin would have dropped their burglar to his death.

Gandalf watched with tired, sympathetic eyes over the sleeping form of his friend. How wretched and tortured was Bilbo's expression that it was almost unbearable. But should he wake him? Free him from his nightmares? But then if he did, Bilbo would be most likely embarrassed and bitter at having been found in his current condition by his friend. He decided with finality that it would be best just to watch from the doorway and make sure the hobbit didn't hurt himself.

Bilbo continued on in this manner for nearly a half hour. The rain continued to come down outside with brief flashes of lightning every now and again, the rumbles of thunder drowning out Bilbo's whimpers and cries at times. Gandalf hadn't been expecting for Bilbo to awake when he did. He had been halfway yelling out again, this time begging for help, when his eyes snapped open. The hobbit bolted upright in his bed; he was clearly disoriented. Gandalf quickly stepped back into the hallway, not wishing Bilbo to catch him watching over him. Bilbo sat up in bed, gazing around the room in confusion before running his hands through his curly hair. His breath came out in shaky breaths and his shoulders began to heave. Tears streamed down his face in thick streams as he broke into sobs. The wizard bit back words and sank back into his room; nothing he could say would help his friend.

There was only one person that could, and he was sleeping in his own bed in Erebor.

With the rain his only witness, Bilbo slowly began bending forward, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the violence of his sobs.

"Thorin…Thorin…Thorin…" he sobbed.

His dreams tormented him night after night. Dreams of being dangled over the balcony of Erebor by the man his heart desired most of all and then seeing him shot full of arrows and sliced apart by swords in The Battle of Five Armies. He knew it hadn't happened like that, that Thorin was perfectly safe back in the Misty Mountains, but it was impossible to talk himself down. These nightmares had only happened on rare occasions while he stayed in the dwarven halls, but since returning to the Shire they were a nightly occurrence. And the effects were becoming evident. He didn't have the energy he once had, his mind was always drifting, and he could swear that sometimes he heard a soft voice calling to him, but what it was saying or whose voice it was Bilbo wasn't sure.

It sure wasn't Thorin.

* * *

The nightmares persisted each of the three days that Gandalf was there. The tortured sounds that Bilbo would make stirred the wizard from his sleep at all hours of the night. At one point he considered using magic to calm the hobbit, or perhaps slip a calming herb into his tea, but at ultimately dismissed these ideas.

After the third night, the morning of the fourth brought with it a cool, damp breeze, but plenty of sunshine. The birds were back to chirping merrily and the Shire was alive with activity once more. Gandalf woke bright and early only to find that the hobbit had still beaten him out of bed. Both men looked worse for wear. Gandalf was still drowsy from sitting up listening to Bilbo and Bilbo was beyond tired from being up every couple minutes and having a fitful sleep in general.

Regardless, when Gandalf found him he was standing before his stove, two frying pans before him, one containing sliced potatoes with some butter and herbs and the other containing two omelets. The aroma made Gandalf's stomach growl immediately. If there was one thing that the burglar could do and do well was cook. Over another burner the tea kettle gave out its shrill whistle.

"Good morning," Bilbo mumbled. He turned and fetched a tea cup, dumped a couple of sugar cubes into it, poured some tea and handed the cup and saucer to Gandalf.

The wizard took it gently. "Good morning. Did-" He was about to ask if he had slept well, but he didn't want to get into that subject just yet. "Did you really make all of this for me?"

"Today is your last day is it not?" the hobbit asked with a faint smile. "You said once the rain had lifted you were to be on your way. Oh! But don't think I'm trying to get rid of you Gandalf! You are one of my dearest friends! You are welcome in Bag End all the time if you wish!"

Being flustered was a natural part of Bilbo and it made Gandalf feel like the hobbit was back to his merry self.

_Perhaps it was because of the rain_, Gandalf pondered as he stirred the hot tea with a spoon he got from the drawer. _It was raining that faithful day after all._

Whatever the cause, the daylight seemed to have a calming effect on Bilbo.

"But to answer you, my dear Bilbo, yes, I do intend to depart this day. I shall head for a council with Elrond along my way however. There are some pressing matters that need to come to his attention."

Bilbo though about asking of what issues he spoke of, but with a second thought as he slid the omelets onto separate plates, he figured he had no business putting his nose in wizardly affairs. He divided the potatoes into two even portions and shoveled them out onto the plates beside the omelets. Gandalf took his with a thankful nod and made his way into the dining area. Each took a seat, and began eating in silence. It was good, hot hobbit cooking, and Gandalf had to wonder if there was another race that cooked as good as the hobbits of the Shire.

"I have something I want you to take to Erebor," Bilbo blurted out suddenly. He nearly dropped his fork when he made the declaration, his eyes were squeezed shut and a red color had spread across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Gandalf raised a gray eyebrow. "Oh?"

The hobbit nodded. "If you don't mind that is."

From his vest he produced a letter tied with a leather ribbon.

"When did you…?"

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted sheepishly. "I've been up for a while writing that. If you don't mind…please don't read it."

Gandalf placed it on the table between them. "It's for Thorin isn't it." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. It may ruin what friendship we were able to salvage after…"

His sentence didn't need to be finished. _After he tried to kill me_ hung in the air between them.

"But I need to tell him Gandalf. He doesn't realize how I feel for him. How much I feel for him," Bilbo sighed. "He has absolutely _ruined_ me. I can't think of anyone else…and all I dream of is him."

The wizard sat staring at the small creature before him. It took a lot of courage for him to say his feelings aloud, especially for a dwarven king who was known to have hated Bilbo through a good portion of The Journey.

"I don't know how he'll feel about my letter," he continued. "But it is all my truth and it all needs to be said. If he doesn't feel the same then at least I can…"

"Move on?"

Bilbo gulped. He couldn't say those words aloud.

"And what if these feelings are reciprocated?"

"If I thought they would be, I would have acted upon them in Erebor. This is my final goodbye."

"Perhaps you will be pleasantly surprised," the elderly one offered, a sparkle of mischief in his eye.

Bilbo snorted. "And perhaps I'll suddenly have a child. Come on Gandalf. Be reasonable."

After slowly eating breakfast in awkward silence and doing up the dishes, Gandalf gathered up what little belongings he had brought with him and Bilbo escorted him out the front door and to the yard gate. It was a sad parting. The thought of leaving a mentally strained Bilbo did not sit well with Gandalf, and Bilbo was feeling empty inside again at the thought of an empty Bag End.

"You'll deliver my letter then?"

"Of course. But you know Fili and Kili will ask for their letters too. Of which, you have wrote none."

The hobbit gave a chuckle. "I had almost forgotten. I do need to write to them, don't I? Perhaps next time."

Gandalf clapped him on the shoulder a couple times. For the first time in a long while he felt lost for words. He settled for, "Goodbye dear friend."

"Goodbye _old_ friend," Bilbo offered, a smile pasted on his face. It did not fool Gandalf.

As the gray wizard walked out of his yard, down the path and out of sight over the hills of the Shire, Bilbo could feel his smile slipping off his face until it was entirely gone. He gave a tired sigh and went to move back into his house when he heard a yell coming from the opposite direction.

"Mr. Baggins! Mr. Baggins! Wait!"

Rushing towards him was a man around his age and if his size and hairy feet was any indicator he too was a hobbit. Bilbo barely registered him because trotting behind the man, struggling to keep up was a child, probably no more than five. He had pale skin like the glass of a porcelain cup, large blue eyes and curly locks of black. The two looked tired and a tad bit dirty. The boy had a backpack strapped to his back while he held a suitcase tightly in his arms as though he were afraid a rogue breeze might take it away. There was something so familiar about him that Bilbo found himself stopping and staring as the strangers approached.

When both arrived at his gate with Bilbo just on the other side, the man hunched forward, supporting himself on his knees and panting as though he had run a marathon. The child was much quieter, but he looked tired as well.

"Thank goodness you're home!" the stranger gushed in between breaths.

Bilbo cocked a brow. "And who might you be?"

The stranger however ignored him. He took the young hobbit by the shoulders and positioned him in front as though presenting him.

"I'm afraid there's been a terrible accident. Your cousin Drogo he…"


	9. Goodbye

_He had gotten done his mundane duties as king for the day. They were the nearly the same day in and day out, and Thorin grew so sick of them. He found himself taking a stroll through the halls of Erebor, taking in the chiseled rocks of old, wondering how many generations of dwarves had it taken to create such splendor as this. The halls were cold and dark with only small torches giving any light. Despite the darkness Thorin found knew the halls like the backs of his hands having had traversed them since birth. They crisscrossed above and below each other as they plunged deeper into the earth._

_His wandering feet led him to the treasure room. Gold was stacked nearly to the large vaulted ceilings that were carved from the mountain itself. Gemstones mixed with the ingots of steel, mithril, silver, copper and more. Helms, weapons and shields from every age were lined up along the walls, displaying the military might of the dwarves. Sitting atop of one of the large piles of gold was the throne of precious gems and gold was the throne of the king with the Arkenstone set within the lavish seat's tall back. However there was something else on the throne, draped across it in such a provocative manner that the king had to pause for a moment._

_It was his burglar. _

_His mouth was nearly dry as his eyes ran up and down the lounging form of the hobbit. Bilbo wore no shoes or socks and his hobbit styled clothes had been replaced with dwarven ware. He had long black pants, a coat of fur and a tunic of blue. It took him a couple looks to realize it was one of his own—the metal studs that lined it were the dead giveaway. _

_ "B-" Thorin was forced to swallow to try and fix his dry mouth. "Bilbo."_

_His hazel eyes glanced up into his from where they had been focused in his lap. "Thorin," he replied. _

_ "What are you doing on my-"_

_The hobbit turned to the side to face him while still laying stretched out, his feet dangling over the arms of the throne. "It's a rather nice view from up here. You can see all the gold." _

_ "That's why it's positioned like it is my dear hobbit."_

_Thorin approached hesitantly. Bilbo was not typically one for games, not ones such as this in any case. Bilbo's eyes trailed over him as he approached and it wasn't Thorin's imagination when he saw his lover's tongue dart out and drag across his bottom lip. The king's heart began to pound in his ears. By then he was upon the hobbit, slowly lowering himself to his knees before him, taking a hand in his own and kissing it. Bilbo watched him through half lidded eyes. _

_ "My king," he purred out, "are you done your duties?"_

_ "Yes." _

_Bilbo sat up then. Thorin's head was only a lower down than his and Bilbo used this moment to thread a hand through Thorin's hair. They both inched ever so closer until their lips were nearly touching. _

_ "My king…" Bilbo's voice was scarcely a whisper but it sent shock waves down Thorin's body, pooling in his stomach. The hobbit smoothed his fingers over the dwarf's thick black beard. His lips grazed Thorin's teasingly before migrating up to one of his ears. "I want you Thorin."_

_The husky tone Bilbo used made Thorin groan out loud. Those hands migrated from his bearded face to his shoulders, giving him a tug. Thorin grabbed onto those hands and hefted Bilbo off the throne. He took his rightful seat and pulled Bilbo onto his lap, the action made all the more suggestive when Bilbo spread his legs so there was a leg on either side of the king's hips. He gently shifted downwards. Thorin threw back his head with a surprised gasp. _

_ "Bilbo!" Thorin growled out. His voice was gravelly and his eyes were hazy. He desired his burglar, and he was determined to have him, right there on the throne._

_Bilbo sat up straight while straddling the strongest dwarf in any mountain. "Yes my lord?" he breathed out._

_ "Undress."_

_The hobbit untangled himself from Thorin's grasp and stood. His eyes locked onto Thorin's and his nimble little fingers began unfastening all the buckles and buttons that held his fur and tunic on before sliding them gracefully to the ground. Deep within Thorin's core he could feel a heat that felt as though a snake had coiled up in his abdomen and was waiting to spring. _

_But just as the zipper sung on its way down, Thorin awoke with a start._

* * *

Thorin Oakenshield dreamt every night before and during his journey back to Erebor. Some were horrific flashbacks of the day Smaug descended on them, blowing fire from his massive jaws, clawing its way into his castle—his home, burning everyone he could before laying up in their treasure room. Other dreams were of the battle with the Pale Orc. Most were of reclaiming the Lonely Mountain, returning his people to their rightful home. But then there was Bilbo. He often had spring-like dreams about his savory hobbit.

It had been over a year since he last conversed with Bilbo, but the dreams did not cease.

That year had been a long year for the dwarf king. In the beginning Thorin would pace, his eyes scanning the horizon beyond the walls of his glorious dwarven city, looking for the glimmer of gold that meant the elf had come with another letter. Autumn turned to winter and winter to spring. The snow had begun to melt from the misty mountains, giving way for rich green foliage and beautiful mountain flowers. But no letters came.

His heart ached knowing that his hobbit was beyond his reach, back beyond the mountains, valleys and forests that separated them. The many leagues between them were too much for Thorin to send out a dwarven scout with a letter; he needed all his men at home for the time being. But the heat of summer was beginning to slow and his worry did not decrease with time.

Thorin awoke within his chambers one morning with a groan. He didn't wish to wake. The dream had been so real; he could still feel Bilbo stroke his beard. He longed for the hobbit every morning, day and night. There was never any relief.

His duties had distracted him for a good portion of the year but now it was a slow time. The harvests were going well, the mines were blooming wonderfully with new veins of ore being found every couple weeks, the smithies were continuously pumping out the finest dwarven arms and armor ever crafted and Fili and Kili were finally coming into their own as respectable princes, albeit slowly. But in the bottom of his heart he longed to be where Bilbo was. But he was not even sure of where that was. Was he still in the shire? Or had he left without a word?

He moved from his bed to sit at his desk, pulling the book Bilbo had wrote about their adventure open before him as he always did when he thought of the person he loved most in the world. Bilbo's letters were displayed as well. Thorin would never admit it, but the words brought him comfort. While they were merely quill strokes on parchment, it was written by Bilbo's own hand and Thorin could hear him reading each word to him in that soft voice of his. Candles were his only source of light in the dark, windowless room, something that reminded him quite painfully that his burglar could never truly be happy in Erebor; it was too dark for a creature of the light. The thought of keeping him locked in such a place filled Thorin with disgust as if the action would _taint_ the hobbit.

No. These words and dreams were enough.

Or at least that's what he was trying to tell himself. But his heart ached so badly…

His nephews had observed his declining mood over the year. They wanted to help, of that there was no question, but neither of them could leave Erebor and neither knew exactly what needed to be done in the first place. The best they could offer was to try and cheer up their uncle on his particularly lonely days by asking him to train them in sword fighting, going on tours of the mines and going out on hunting expeditions. While he would smile for a while, the smiles never lasted long.

Thorin enjoyed envisioning a life in which Bilbo had stayed beside him. He could have been his right hand man, a writer of dwarven history and triumphs. A bridge between the worlds of the hobbits and the dwarves, and a liaison between the elves and dwarves. Thorin would have showered him with as many gifts as his court could afford and more. Bilbo would have had the most comfortable bed in his kingdom, which would also belong to the King. Anything his heart desired would be given to him without hesitation. He would be safe, kept within the walls unless he was guarded by Thorin himself. It was all Thorin could do but close his eyes and envision the scene. He would have dressed the hobbit in gorgeous furs, luxurious velvets, gems that shined even in the darkest nights and chambers of Erebor.

He would sit upon the lap of the king as he lounged on his throne surrounded by the infinite wealth of Erebor, running his hands through Thorin's hair with half lidded eyes, his finger toying with the king's lower lip...

The king stood up abruptly which sent his chair tumbling backwards.

"I'm such a fool!" he growled.

Anger bubbled in his veins. He didn't often admit that his choices weren't the best, but he was now lamented not expressing his feelings for the hobbit when he had the chance.

Out of nowhere there was a rapping at the door to his room. Thorin quickly righted his chair and adjusted his clothes before barking, "Come in!"

The tall figure who walked in was not who he expected. Gandalf the Gray lowered his head ever so slightly so he could get through the doorway. In his hands he held his battered hat and his staff. He looked a little worse for wear, but Thorin considered their Journey and the age of the wizard before thinking perhaps he actually was looking good.

He spread his arms in a warm gesture. "Gandalf. What do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

The wizard gave a trace of a smile. "Many races across Middle Earth regard me as a harbinger of bad news and ill fates. I apologize Thorin, but this visit is not a cheery one. Nay, I bring you news that I know will distress you a great deal."

Thorin's stomach dropped quit suddenly.

_He's dead._

From his robe Gandalf produced a tattered scroll, tied together by an aging strip of leather. The mighty dwarven king felt his legs began to weaken so he slumped down into his desk chair as he took the letter.

"I apologize for getting this to you so late," the wizard said in a low voice. His eyes held sadness to them that Thorin hadn't seen in quite a time. "It's been nearly a year I've had that letter, but I had unexpected business that took much longer than I expected."

The knot in his gut tightened.

"I'll give you some privacy." And with that Gandalf receded through the doorway and began wandering the halls.

Thorin untied the leather and unraveled the sheet. The handwriting was definitely Bilbo's, but at points it seemed to quiver as though hesitating and at other times it looked as though it had been splashed with water.

* * *

_My Dearest Thorin,_

_I write to you from the Shire, hoping all is well in Erebor. You must apologize to Kili and Fili for me, for I have neglected to write them at all. But I haven't had the spirit of late to do much of anything. My sleep has been tortured. Night after night I have horrible dreams of the horrors of our journey, of the destruction Smaug wrought, the Pale Orc, my theft of the Arkenstone and most of all The Battle of Five Armies. I have vivid dreams in which I didn't get to you quickly enough to save you during the battle, of seeing you and everyone else around me killed. I see the life leave your eyes and your body lose all its fight, color and spirit. I wake in the middle of every night sobbing more hysterically than I would ever like to admit with a voice speaking to me in the back of my mind yet I know not what it says._

_On the same subject of admittance, I must say I haven't been completely honest with you. With this letter I'm risking everything, although it might not seem like it. I value your friendship, Thorin, more than anything. I admit, when you and the others arrived at Bag End all that time ago, I didn't particularly care for any of you; the lot of you trampled into my house and ate all my food! But then you sang. I heard you from my room as you began to sing in a low, sad voice about losing your home, and each of your men joined in without being told. You made your way into my heart then, but only as someone I think could have my respect…someone I might be able to follow into the heart of a dragon's den._

_That's why I decided to leave after you the following morning. I can't say you seemed very happy that I had come along, but that was okay. The more and more I traveled with you, despite your harsh words and criticisms, I knew you were just trying your best to keep everyone in one piece. _

_But by the time we reached Erebor I knew. _

_I loved you._

_You had me hooked on your every word. I would have done anything for you if you would had merely asked. You were-and are, the most handsome person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and the most regal as well. A person such as you deserves to have a throne of the most precious metals and gems, and have legions of followers. _

_That is why I never told you my feelings. Why would someone as fair, noble and brave as you desire a small hobbit from the boring shire?_

_And then I was a fool and betrayed your trust. I stole that which you held dearest and handed it over to people you loathe. But I did it with you and the others in mind; I wanted not to hurt you, but to help you. I can only hope that you see that now. The look you gave me while we were on the balcony as you dangled me over was full of such hate and distain that I knew I could never let you know the love I carried in my heart for you. _

_Looking back, Thorin, I believe it would have been a mercy just to drop me. _

_I haven't slept right since my last night in Erebor. I can scarcely focus to write this letter. But I know if I shut my eyes I will return to the hell inside my head. But you are not to blame. I'm thankful that I was able to save you in time after The Battle of Five Armies. And I'm glad to know that you are safe. It is my own selfish desires that long for you to be beside me. I would love to be able to show you the affection in which my heart holds for you, but we are in very different places. I cannot be happy kept up in the darkness of your caves, and you cannot be gone from the place you fought so hard to reclaim. _

_So this is my final goodbye. I hope with this admittance to my love you that my heart and mind may be at peace. You will never look upon me the same again I'm afraid, but these words are my truth. If you never wish to speak to me again, I understand. But please, while you might remember me from time to time, do not remember me as merely the burglar whom betrayed you, but the hobbit who loved you._

_Good bye, Thorin._

_-Bilbo Baggins_

* * *

By the end of the letter Thorin felt the dampness on his cheeks. He laid the letter on his desk and let out a choked sob.

"How could I have done this to him?" he asked aloud. "I have pushed him away, making believe his love would be unwanted."

_But what do I do?_ _Another letter?_

As he reached for paper and quill his hand froze. No. A letter would take longer.

And within that moment he made his choice.


	10. Soup

Author's Notes: Please don't message me and tell me that I got the family relations wrong. I know. I simplified them cuz the tree is confusing enough.

* * *

It was a bright cheery afternoon in Hobbiton. The trees that surrounded the quiet hills were beautiful shades of orange, yellow and reds, and the leaves were beginning to fall in great piles. The air had become dry and crisp, not at all unpleasant. Autumn was the perfect season for hobbits that loved more than anything to cook in their ovens and on their stove tops without their hobbit holes getting flooded with heat. Hobbits were out and about tending their gardens, hanging laundry and the like. It was a normal day.

But cresting one of the hills was a stranger cloaked in a black and blue tunic with a brown fur throw hanging off his shoulders and big black boots with steel toes. He had a mane of black hair with silver streaks, and dark blue eyes that looked determined, yet aggravated. Nobody who saw him knew who he was, but of course it was none other than Thorin Oakenshield. He had left the Lonely Mountain two months prior in a quest to find Bilbo; he couldn't allow him to go on suffering by himself. The month long trip took twice as long when he made an accidental wrong turn somewhere after Rivendale. The king was muttering darkly under his breath about being a fool, but nobody dared talk to him. The women cast him second, near longing glances; he was a handsome, exotic fellow to be sure.

He made his way through the small town, looking for the hobbit hole belonging to Bilbo. He had a vague recollection of the round door, the garden out in the front and the white-

"The white gate!" he gasped out as he spotted it. Thorin had to squash the need to run to it.

He took large strides to get over to it but right outside the gate he stopped and stared at the round doorway just up the sidewalk. What if Bilbo didn't want him there? Thorin, the warrior who had taken on countless goblins, orcs and wargs found himself suddenly afraid of the small creature that dwelled in the house. Regardless, he made his way through the gate and up to the door. For a long moment he stood there, contemplating how he should act. Should he act happy to see him? Detached? A flicker of a thought entered his mind and the king found himself turning to the side and plucking a daisy from the garden to the left of the front step. Soon his knuckles were rapping on the door. And for a while he stood in utter silence, twirling the flower in his hand. Then he heard a light pitter-patter from within the house followed by the scrape of something just on the other side. He raised his eyebrow but said nothing. Just as he was about to knock again, the noises started again.

"Hello? Bilbo?" he called out.

The door slowly cracked open. Without looking Thorin averted his eyes and shoved the flower towards the hobbit.

"Aw! Thanks mister!"

Thorin's eyes flew open and his head twisted forward to take in the sight of a small child. He was small, even for a hobbit, with black curly hair and large baby blue eyes. The child was barefooted, exposing his hairy hobbit feet. Suspenders held up black pants that stopped at his knees, and he wore a white button up shirt. He grinned up at Thorin, completely fearless, holding the flower meant for Bilbo in his hands.

"Who are you?" Thorin asked, trying to keep the edge out his voice.

The youngster replaced the stool he had been standing on so he could see out the peephole to the side. "My name is Frodo! Come inside! You can help me color!"

Without waiting for a reply, the child name Frodo raced back into the house. Thorin stood in the threshold, stunned. Who was this child? Why was he in Bag End? Where was Bilbo?

Then it hit him like a cold blast of air.

_It's his child_.

With those curls, that complexion, that outgoing personality…there was no doubt in his mind. Thorin smiled sadly.

"I suppose someone brought him peace of mind," he mumbled under his breath.

He still found himself wandering into the house, looking for Frodo. He dumped his pack in the entryway along with his muddy boots.

The hobbit hole was different in the day light than it had been the last time he had been there in the middle of the night. A cool breeze drifted in through each round open window along with bright rays of sunlight that pooled on the hardwood floors. Inside smelled like some sort of soup that instantly made Thorin remember all the meals Bilbo used to make for The Company along their travels and it rekindled the yearning to see the hobbit with more passion than ever.

_So close…_

Photos lined the walls, each portrait a face with resemblances to Bilbo's in either the roundness of the eyes or face, the color or curls of the hair, the shape of the nose and mouth. Thorin noticed however than there were none of Bilbo, Frodo or whomever his wife could be.

_Perhaps she has died?_

Frodo was in the dining room when Thorin found him. He was sitting at the dining room table, his legs dangling off a chair since he was too small to reach the floor. Papers were spread out in front of him along with a large box of coloring sticks. His eyes were narrowed in concentration and he added some green to what he was drawing. The daisy sat beside the box on the table. Upon seeing the dwarf enter the room, Frodo motioned him over to the table. Thorin humored him and sat down in the chair next to him.

"I'm drawing the Shire," Frodo declared. Indeed, Thorin could make out the green hills and the round doors.

It had been a while since the King Under the Mountain had talked to children, but he hadn't forgotten having to deal with his two nephews when his sister had business. "I can see. You are skilled with drawing."

The young hobbit beamed. "Thank you! I try my best! My mom used to like my drawings a whole lot too."

_So it's true…she must be…_

Thorin watched Frodo absent mindedly as he drew more hills and attempted to put flower gardens in front of some of the hobbit holes. There was a constant bubbling sound in the kitchen which sat right next to the dining room. If the smells were anything to go by, someone was cooking soup.

"Do you think it was wise to let a stranger in your house?" Thorin asked as a way to break the silence.

Topaz blue eyes glanced up at him from under dark lashes. "But you're not a stranger!"

Thorin rested his arms on the table and leaned towards Frodo. "You're mistaken young hobbit. I've never met you before. That makes us strangers-"

Frodo shook his head quickly. "I've seen you before! We have a picture of you!"

"A picture…?" Thorin asked dumbly.

"Frodo who are you-"

The voice from the hallway startled Thorin to the point all the blood seemed to rush from his face, leaving him white and dizzy. There was a thump as something hit the floor in the doorway behind him. Turning, the dwarf saw none other than Bilbo Baggins standing in the doorway, his hands still in the position where he had been holding a sack of potatoes that were now spilled and tumbling all over the floor. His hazel eyes were wide with shock, his mouth slacken with a lack of words. Thorin's eyes racked over his small frame as though it had been centuries since he had last gazed upon him. Bilbo was no longer wearing his dwarven wares, but rather burgundy colored trousers, a long sleeved cream shirt and a burgundy vest with gold swirls.

Thorin did however notice through his locks, still attached to his one ear was the silver clip that Thorin himself had given Bilbo the day he left. His heart leapt into his throat.

"Thorin…"

"Bilbo…I'm sorry to have intruded, I didn't-"

Bilbo merely smiled in a tired sort of way. Had he always seemed so tired? There was light purple underneath his eyes that could be attributed to a lack of sleep. Suddenly everything the wizard had said and Bilbo had written in his last letter all came crashing back.

"Frodo," Bilbo said quietly, instantly grabbing the younger one's attention, "could you leave us for a while? Perhaps go draw in your room?"

Sensing the gravity in Bilbo's tone, Frodo nodded and quickly collected up his drawing supplies and bee-lined it for his room further within the hobbit hole. Thorin stood from his seat and stood before Bilbo.

"My apologies. I came to see you and your son let me in. I didn't realize you weren't home," Thorin muttered. "I just recently came into possession of your letter and I thought I would-"

Bilbo looked even more shocked than ever. "M-My s-son?"

Thorin raised his eyebrow. "Yes? When I knocked Frodo allowed me in-"

"Frodo is not my son!" Bilbo spluttered.

The king's eyes widen as the words sank in. "But he looks like he….the name…?"

"Technically he's my nephew," Bilbo explained carefully. "My cousin Drogo is-was, his father."

"Then why is he…?"

Bilbo frowned deeply, his eyes holding a dull pain in them. "He's an orphan. My cousin Drogo and his wife died in a boating accident. It's a known fact hobbits can't swim…yet they wanted to go out on the water. The boat capsized and…they never made it to the surface."

Thorin hesitantly placed a comforting hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "My condolences, Bilbo."

"He came under my charge only shortly after Gandalf's last visit," Bilbo said, his eyes downcast. "He doesn't have any other family that would take him and since I live alone in a big home I had the room they thought I would be the best choice. Plus I have more than enough money thanks to my one-fourteenth of the share from The Journey."

Relief. Thorin hadn't been able to immediately name the feeling that slowly flooded his chest as Bilbo explained, but after a couple moments of looking over the hobbit he knew it was relief. Had he truly been dreading meeting his wife? Had it truly hurt so much to think that he had raised a child since returning to the Shire?

When he turned his full attention back to the hobbit he realized Bilbo was flushed bright red across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He was biting down nervously on his bottom lip, his eyes glancing up into Thorin's as if seeking something.

"_To My King So Far Away. To My King Under the Mountain. __My Dearest Thorin."_

"_But by the time we reached Erebor I knew. I loved you."_

The words contained in the letters that Thorin had brought along with him rang out in his head as the air between him and hobbit grew tense. The dwarf had travelled all the way to the Shire to confront Bilbo, but now that he was standing before him he found that words had left him entirely. And as the silence continued it was clear the sadder Bilbo was becoming. Slowly, as if Bilbo was a viper ready to strike, Thorin knelt down before him and took one of his hands. They were small hands in comparison to a dwarf hand, but they were incredibly smooth as if made from the finest silks and velvets that could be found in Dale. Small scars crisscrossed his fingers and palms, ones that Bilbo had accumulated over The Journey when being careful only got you so far. Hazel eyes marked his movements as he slowly took the hand and began looking them over. Impossibly Bilbo got redder.

"Gandalf delivered your letter to me," Thorin said, his voice softer than Bilbo ever thought it could be.

Bilbo gulped nervously. He knew what he had written in that letter; his love and admiration for Thorin was written out in black ink and he had signed it. He knew he had damned himself, but for Thorin to be so angry he came to the Shire himself to confront him? The smaller male squeezed his eyes shut. He knew a blow was coming. He heard Thorin slowly stand up to his full height, a good head higher than Bilbo, yet he did not open his eyes.

Suddenly a violent bubbling noise reached his ears. Bilbo's eyes flew open, startling Thorin.

"The soup!" the hobbit cried out as he fled into the kitchen.

Thorin was rooted in place by disbelief. He had hesitated too long and now the moment was gone. His lips which had been parted slightly in preparation to bestow a kiss long overdue now pressed themselves firmly together a couple times before relaxing back to their normal state.

Following after Bilbo he was greeted with the sight of Bilbo desperately wiping up the soup which had bubbled over the side of the pot and onto the stove and floor. Bilbo looked completely frazzled and was spouting off what sounded like curses, but Thorin could only assume they were in some hobbit tongue. It was quite a sight to behold, especially with the hobbit in a nice black apron. Thorin was helpless as his gaze followed the movements of the hobbit as he scrubbed. He was embarrassed to admit, but Bilbo did have quite a nice ass.

"Of all the luck," Bilbo hissed angrily. "I forgot to turn down the heat!"

Thorin approached cautiously. "Would you like me to help you prepare another?"

The hobbit sighed, his shoulder slumping in defeat. "No. How about we go out for dinner?"

A heat flushed over Thorin's body, although he would _never_ admit it.

_A date._


	11. Cake

_Author's Notes: Hello all! Sorry this chapter took so long to write/pose. College started back up and I haven't been able to focus long enough to write. But here it is! I have the next two chapters already thought out and then that's all folks! Thanks again for reviewing and following. Again, if you want, I'm NoxCaligo on tumblr 3_

* * *

_A date indeed._ Thorin huffed to himself.

After dropping off Frodo with the family of his friend Sam, Bilbo had escorted Thorin through Hobbiton to one of the hills on the outskirts of town. There nestled within this large hill was a tavern, filled to the brim with hobbits, each with mug of mead in one hand and an item of food in the other. Inside a fire crackled in a hearth and music flowed through the air along with the smoke from several pipes that were being lit up. There was joy and merriment from wall to wall as the citizens of the Shire skipped around on the tops of the long wooden tables and clapped their hands together in tune and hollered with drunken glee.

Bilbo and Thorin set themselves up at the end of one of the many rows. Bilbo hadn't spoken once since he had left Frodo, nor had he cracked even the slightest smile. Thorin as well was rather quiet although his mind was filled with the noise of doubt and excitement as he wondered how he should go forth talking to the one he loved most of all.

The uncomfortable silence was only broken with when a tavern woman- whose name Bilbo mumbled in passing but Thorin could not recall- came over with empty plates, a platter of roast beef covered in gravy, bowls of sliced apples coated in cinnamon, nuts and cranberries, along with two cups filled to the brim with mead.

She cast Bilbo a curious smile, "Shall I just add it to your tab Mr. Baggins?"

Bilbo nodded, taking the mud of mead in hand. "Yes, thank you."

Then they were alone again.

_Tab? Does he come here often then? _Thorin pondered.

"It's nice to finally be able to see you again," Thorin said finally. He would be damned if he traveled through two months' worth of elf country to sit in silence.

"It is good to see you as well."

The reply however lacked sincerity, or so it seemed to Thorin. The dwarf's frown impossibly deepened.

"Bilbo."

Hearing the king say his name in his deep, rough voice once more sent Bilbo back to his final days in Erebor where Thorin would appear in his doorway, clad in leathers and furs and smelling of the earth. Bilbo's hazel eyes flicked up from where they had been staring into his cup to across the table where he found Thorin staring him down.

"Have I displeased you Bilbo?" the dwarf asked. His tone was rough as usual, but there was something broken about it.

The hobbit sighed. "It would have been nice to have you there that day…to see me off," he replied quietly.

Thorin's eyes didn't leave Bilbo's much to the hobbit's surprised. He had expected guilt, for him to look away perhaps.

"If I could have found it in my heart to watch you walk away from Erebor and past the mountains, I would have," Thorin said. His voice was soft and yet Bilbo could still hear him over the din of the tavern. "But I could not. Every time I thought of you taking your leave…I couldn't…"

"Did it really bother you so?" Bilbo asked disbelievingly.

Thorin slammed his hands down on the table, jumping up so he almost tipped the entire bench he was sitting on over. His normally cold eyes burned with a kind of passion, the likes of which Bilbo hadn't seen since Elrond had condemned him to the dungeons.

"Of course it did!" he yelled.

His booming voice drew every eye to them. Realizing this, Thorin coughed awkwardly and sank back down onto the bench. He threaded his hands through his long peppered hair with aggravation. Bilbo studied him quietly, a pink blush dusted across his cheeks and bridge of his nose.

In a voice just barely above a whisper Thorin continued, "There wasn't a day that didn't go by where you were not on my mind. Not a night where you were not in my dreams…"

"Thorin…"

"I received your letter," Thorin stated, this time back to a more conversational volume. As if to prove it he pulled the rolled up and weathered letter from his pocket, and much to Bilbo's horror he also produced the others. When Bilbo glanced up from looking at the parchment Thorin snarled, "You had a lot of gall…"

_Here it is. _Bilbo braced himself for the verbal thrashing of a life time.

"I'm sorry Thorin." He didn't want to admit that his voice cracked as he apologized.

A hand slid across the table and grabbed Bilbo's gently. The tender touch was so unexpected that Bilbo gave a jerk of surprise.

"You had a lot of gall leaving me like you did," he whispered while soothing his fingers over the top of Bilbo's hands. His touch was warm, inviting, and intimate. "I walked the halls of Erebor since before we rid it of Smaug, desiring you and your love more than the gold, more than the jewels, more than Erebor itself."

The words stunned Bilbo to silence. His mouth slackened.

_Did I hear him right…?_

"Every day I watched you," he continued, his eyes drilling into Bilbo's, "as you walked about, unknowing of my love. Watched as you talked with all of my company, a smile on your face. But then the moment _I_ would say your name, you would shrink back as though you thought I would strike you."

The king's eyes faltered, dropping down to his lap. A firm frown tugged at him mouth and the passionate air that had slowly developed dropped instantly.

"I know, after what I did to you, I have no right to _love you_," he stated. "What I did was beyond forgivable. And I've told myself this every night before I shut my eyes. 'Give it up,' I would say, 'You don't deserve him', but then I would dream of you. Your pale, flawless, smooth skin, your hazel eyes, your beautiful locks, the way you blush so easily when you're flustered…And I realized something."

"And…what was…that?" Bilbo asked shyly. He hadn't realized it, but slowly he had been leaning forward. Now he was slid completely forward on the bench, his elbows resting on the table, his body craned forward gently. He had long forgiven Thorin for the way he had acted while under the Gold Sickness, but it was almost reassuring that Thorin held guilt in his heart for his actions.

Thorin leaned forward too, ignoring the stray eyes that were lingering on them. His face was only inches from the hobbit's, their noses so close to brushing that Thorin could feel the hot breath between them.

"I realize that no matter how much I deny myself…no matter how far away you are…I will always think of you. I admit I did not always hold such a fondness for you, but…" His frown quirked upwards into a smile as he whispered with intended irony, "since we arrived at Erebor I knew. I loved you."

In a second a deep red blush ignited across Bilbo's skin. The words that he had desired more than anything were being spoken to him, those words that he believed he would never hear.

Bilbo gave a sigh of relief, in contrast to Thorin who had sucked in a breath, holding it as waited for Bilbo's reply. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear those words."

"As long as I wished for them too it would seem," Thorin replied, tapping the pile of letters with a finger.

As much as they both wanted to close the extra distance between them there were just too many eyes. The last thing Bilbo needed was to stir up even more trouble in the conservative Shire. Slowly both drew back. Bilbo's eyes were downcast, his face red and his hands clammy. Thorin swept his gaze around the room, giving death glares to everyone who had been watching their exchange. The two of them slipped back into a comfortable silence as they continued eating. The food was good; Thorin was more thankful than usual after having to eat berries and half-cooked rabbits for two months.

"What kind of soup were you making?" Thorin asked.

Bilbo looked up from his food. "I don't know if there's a name for it really. It has carrots, peas, potatoes, celery, a lot of different spices…I've always just called it soup!"

"I was just curious. It smelled very good when I came in your house."

The hobbit perked up immensely. Hobbits as a rule of thumb _always_ enjoy good food and company, and more so when the two are combined. Aside from talking about family lineage, food was the next big topic of talk whereas the dwarves were more focused on talking about their days in the mines. For Thorin to be willing to talk food with Bilbo it meant a lot to the hobbit.

"I was out getting some potatoes when you arrived. I had completely forgotten them while I was at the market earlier," Bilbo admitted. "I can make another pot tomorrow if you wish."

Thorin smiled gently across the table as he finished his last slice of roast beef. "I would like that very much."

"You look a bit thin," Bilbo noted.

"I can't disagree. I've been living out in the woods for two months…living like an _elf._"

The hobbit chuckled. Thorin was infamous for having a terrible sense of direction. The incidents leading up to their encounter with Tranduil and the other elves of Mirkwood had been evidence enough.

"You look thinner as well," Thorin continued. His tone was anything but amused however. "You mentioned you've been having nightmares…Have they been effecting you so much?"

It was something Bilbo instantly regretted having admitted to Thorin. "I know they shouldn't…but it was hard to sleep and it messed up my eating."

Thorin's face showed nothing but concern as he reached across the table once more and held onto Bilbo's hands. "What could possibly affect you so much?"

Bilbo shook his head rapidly. "I don't want to talk about it. Not now…"

The dwarf nodded. "We _will_ talk about it, Bilbo."

The stern tone sent a shiver down Bilbo's spine. His voice was so rough just like the ore he worked at the forge, deep like the mines of Moria. Before he could get too distracted the barmaid returned with a single plate in hand and two forks. On the plate was a slice of red velvet cake with white creamy icing.

"A desert to share with your boyfriend Mr. Baggins?"

Both Thorin and Bilbo flushed a deep shade of red.

"He's not my boy-"

"Thanks you," Thorin told the woman, ignoring Bilbo's protest. The woman smiled and left as quickly as she disappeared. He stabbed a bite's worth of cake and held it up for Bilbo. "Wanna bite?"

Bilbo scowled but that did not make his blush dissipate. He parted his lips ever so slightly. The dwarf chuckled at the suddenly shy hobbit and opened his own mouth wide, a silent order for Bilbo to open his wider as well. Bilbo complied and the cake was delicately placed in his mouth. The way Bilbo's lips parted for the fork and cake along with the fact those large hazel eyes never left his sent a jolt down into his stomach, something he would never _ever_ admit. The two continued like this for several minutes, alternating eating between the two of them until the slice of cake was gone.

"You've got a bit on your nose," Thorin whispered. Without waiting for a reply he reached across the table to swipe some icing off from under Bilbo's lip.

In an utterly surprising move and a Tookish gleam in his eyes, Bilbo flicked his tongue out just as Thorin was about to get the icing and got it himself. Thorin withdrew his hand slowly, hesitantly. Then Bilbo did the unthinkable and dragged his small pink tongue across his equally pink lips. Thorin watched and felt another jolt.

_He can't be doing this on purpose_, Thorin groaned inwardly. But something in those hazel orbs told him that Bilbo meant everything he was doing.

"Bilbo…"

Without a word the hobbit stood. Thorin hesitantly stood as well, confused to what Bilbo was doing. He came around to Thorin's side of the table and took ahold of his hand.

"Thorin. Let's leave."

The words surprised him. "Leave?"

The smaller male nodded. "Back to my house. We could have a night cap, and we could…"

Thorin smiled and leaned forward, his mouth close to Bilbo's ear. "That would be lovely."

As he went to draw away he gave a quick peck of a kiss on Bilbo's cheek. Bilbo shivered. The scrape of beard on his bare cheek, however brief, was a foreign feeling but not unwanted. The hobbit's hand that held onto Thorin's tightened his grip and his lips inched forward in an attempt to capture Thorin's lips. Halfway to his destination he stopped. Thorin watched as the hobbit backed down, a frown appearing on his lips.

"What's wrong?" Thorin whispered.

Bilbo glanced around. "I don't…"

_Too many people._

Thorin caught on to the unsaid words and squeezed Bilbo small hand. "Let's leave then. There'll be nobody at your house."

Bilbo couldn't pull him out the door quick enough.


	12. Our Night

And here's the smut! Woooo. I figure you all saw the rating on this fic so you shouldn't be surprised. But if you're not comfortable with that...well, I guess you should leave? I chose not to make this OVERLY detailed. I MIGHT make an alternate chapter that is another version of this only really detailed and smutty. Haha... Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this! Only one more chapter until the end...And as always, thanks for reading!

* * *

Night had fallen like a dark veil over Hobbiton. The tavern still buzzed with merry drunk hobbits but in the surrounding houses the lights were slowly going out as the residents retired to bed. A thousand stars lit up the sky, a thousand diamonds with the moon the crowning jewel. Frodo had settle down in his friend's room to sleep at last, still confused over why his uncle had extended his stay.

Over at Bilbo's it was dark save for the sitting room which was lit only by two slowly burning candles and the blaze of a slowly crackling fire in the hearth. The shadows of Bilbo and his guest danced around the on the walls due to the light of the candles while everything else glowed orange or just sat in the darkness. Thorin sat in the plush arm chair, his hands threading through Bilbo's curly hair while the hobbit straddled his hips, their mouths slowly sliding against one another's in a seductive dance. Both males had their eyes pressed shut as if for fear opening them would end the moment. Bilbo had his arms draped around Thorin's neck and was craned above him so the dwarf had to lean his head back to connect their kisses.

Bilbo could only sigh with content when they paused every so often for breath. He had always wanted to know what it would be like to kiss the King of the Lonely Mountain—and now he knew. When he had come home from the market only to hear Frodo talking to someone he had thought the worse; upon seeing Thorin sitting there conversing with his nephew he wasn't sure what to do. Sure he had longed to see him, but he had left Erebor because he missed the Shire and he couldn't maintain his feelings any longer. To come face to face with the one he held secret feelings for was almost too much. Then having him at the tavern he didn't know what to say. But then slowly he could feel that Thorin wasn't there to condemn him for his feelings in the letters. After all, he wouldn't have come all this way to tell him off would he? A letter would have sufficed. He wasn't expecting the confession that Thorin had given him.

"_Since we arrived at Erebor I knew. I loved you."_

Thinking of how Thorin had told him made Bilbo groan into Thorin's mouth and shift impossibly closer. Thorin loosened his hands from Bilbo's hair and slide them down to the small of the hobbit's back.

They had left the tavern hand in hand, tip toeing across Hobbiton under the cover of darkness as if they were teenagers out past their curfew until they arrived at the Gamgee residence. After a quick talk to ensure it was okay that Frodo spend the night, the two slipped down the road back to Bilbo's house. Bilbo hadn't even gotten the door open before he felt Thorin pressing up behind him, sneaking small kisses to the side of his neck as he fumbled with the keys. The door had given a click but instead of entering right away Bilbo turned around to face Thorin and the shower of kisses had begun.

Somehow the two had made it into the sitting room without breaking anything. The two pulled away from their amorous embrace for air once again. Both pairs of lips felt as though they were buzzing and neither had the steadiest of hands.

"I had never taken you for the passionate sort," Thorin commented. He pulled Bilbo's face downward so he could bury himself in those wavy curls and take in that smell that was utterly Bilbo.

Bilbo chuckled. "You would have never guessed because I have never alluded to it. I'm a private person."

As Thorin soothed back Bilbo's hair, one of his fingers hit something metallic. Drawing back to get a better look, Thorin examined the metal clip fastened to Bilbo's pointed ears.

"You never took it off." His words came out as a very pleased growl.

Bilbo blushed at the tone of Thorin's words. The possessiveness. "It was a gift. From you. Of course I would-"

The hobbit's comment was cut off when Thorin dragged him into a fierce kiss. The dwarf's hands tried to slide under Bilbo's shirt to get a better feel of him and his warm skin but was hindered by the tight vest the hobbit wore. With an annoyed "tsk" Thorin, much to Bilbo's horror, grabbed the front of his vest with both hands and yanked in opposite directions; the effect was immediate with four bronze buttons flying off into the darkness of the room and Bilbo huffing almost angrily.

"My buttons!" he cried out much to Thorin's amusement. "It's going to take me forever to find them and sew them back on-"

Thorin barely paid any mind. He was already discarding the vest on the floor and was working at the buttons on Bilbo's shirt. "Bilbo, I'll buy you another vest if those buttons are so important to you."

With the shirt and vest finally on the floor Bilbo's bare torso was there to be lavished. Thorin raked his hands across the smooth, hairless skin while his tongue did a slow waltz down his neck and shoulders before biting sharply. Bilbo gave a startled cry that quickly morphed into a moan of pleasure as Thorin began to bite and suck a mark onto the nape of his neck. Bilbo squirmed in Thorin's strong grasp, only proving to intensify the friction building in their trousers.

"This isn't fair," Bilbo mumbled.

Thorin stomped his mouth and drew away leaving a bruise in his wake. His thick brows knitted together in worry. "Is something the matter?"

The smaller of the gazed between them at Thorin's furs and blue tunic. "Here I am nearly bare and you've still got all your clothes."

"You're right my dear hobbit," Thorin chuckled. "Stand up if you would."

Hesitantly Bilbo stood. Thorin stood along with him. His fingers went to the front of his coat and with only a couple moves of his fingers the clasps holding it around him gave way. The heavy material fell to the floor in a pile and after pulling a couple strings across his chest and shrugging the tunic over his head Thorin stood before Bilbo in the same state of dress. The dwarf was very hairy especially in contrast to Bilbo who only had hair on his head, feet and a little on his arms. Thorin's ringed fingers beckoned Bilbo ever closer with a tantalizing waggle and the hobbit immediately replied by closing the distance, wrapping his arms around the king and connecting their mouths once again. Small needy hands went up and down Thorin's muscular back and front, paying extra attention to the taunt muscles of his abdomen. Dark hair covered his chest and formed a line down his navel into the depths of his trousers whereas Bilbo was as bare as a dwarven baby. It was strange for both, neither having dwelled too much on the physical differences of their races, but now having to come face to face with them.

Bilbo broke the kiss and began tracing small circles around Thorin's belly button. "I never realized you were so…"

"Hairy?"

The hobbit cracked a smile. "I was going to say _built._"

"Oh?" Thorin had a teasing look to his eyes as craned his head down to begin sucking more bruises on the side of the hobbit's neck.

"That is…to say…I'm sure mining….keeps you in excellent-ah! - shape…_ah! Thorin-"_

Thorin growled out something in Khuzdûl and nipped harder. Bilbo's legs began to shake and he clung to Thorin for support.

"Ah-I can't stand much longer-"

Without needing another invitation Thorin stopped his assault on Bilbo's neck, having left a large bruise, and picked Bilbo up by his hips. Instinctively Bilbo wrapped his legs around Thorin and draped his arms around his neck. With heavy, awkward steps Thorin begins walking.

"Where are we-?"

The words died on Bilbo's lips as Thorin walked across the room and sat Bilbo down on the top of his dining room table.

"Not on the-"

But Thorin was backing up away from him. Silhouetted by the fire place behind him, Thorin kicked off his boots (which he had been meaning to kick off at the door) and began unhooking the large metal clasp of his belt. Bilbo's hazel eyes watched in the semi darkness, wondering how it led up to this. The king of the Lonely Mountain was disrobing before him, a mere hobbit of the Shire, with a desire building between them that rivaled that of the dwarven desire for gold. His display of undressing was arousing to say the least. Although he was hard to see in the darkness, sometimes the shadows danced just right so he could see the line of muscle darting down into his pants, or he could see the silver stripes in his hair.

_Why would he choose me?_ Bilbo wondered for a moment. But his attention was distracted as he heard the metal clink to the floor and the soft thud of pants following suit. Bilbo's mouth went dry as the rest of Thorin's undergarments were dropped to the ground leaving nothing left to the imagination. Thorin watched Bilbo's expression with mild interest; seeing those hazel eyes widen in surprise and his mouth open and close repeatedly as he struggled for words amused him to no end.

"_Hobbit._" The words were growled out. Thick and heavy sounding as if he had been speaking Khuzdûl.

Bilbo gulped but stared back mischievously. He hooked his fingers into his pants and slowly inched them down, wiggling his hips to get his pants off. Thorin watched Bilbo's display with hungry eyes. Once they were off he glanced up, their eyes connecting.

"_Dwarf._" His voice wasn't as thick, or as guttural sounding, but it did the trick; said dwarf was upon him within moments, seizing him by the shoulders and forcing him backwards onto the table.

Thorin loomed over him, staring into Bilbo's eyes before shocking him with a simple kiss to the lips.

"You know what I mean to do with you." It was not a question.

"I do." There was no hesitation.

With the back of his hand Thorin brushed some hair out of Bilbo's face. "Then I have your permission to continue?"

Bilbo reached up and mimicked Thorin by brushing some stray strands of hair from his face. His voice when he replied was so soft Thorin almost didn't hear him. "I would have stopped you already if I wanted you to."

"Have you ever…?"

"Not with a man…Y-You?"

Thorin noted Bilbo's sudden nervousness. "Nor have I." He smiled gently a laid a kiss on Bilbo's forehead in a reassuring gesture. "It will be a new experience for the both of us, my hobbit."

"My hobbit…"

Gentle kisses were trailed down to Bilbo's lips before drawing away. "You're beautiful."

Bilbo spluttered a couple times, unable to collect himself and causing Thorin to burst into laughter.

Thorin kissed his forehead again. "You are without equal in my eyes Bilbo Baggins. You who are my most precious..." His voice dipped low as he promised, "I will make it so you never think about loving another."

Despite the shiver at Thorin's words, Bilbo couldn't help but think for a moment of his own precious, that golden ring he had taken from Gollum, and the thought that he didn't know exactly where it was alarmed him for a moment. But he hadn't told anyone of The Ring, not even Gandalf, although he supposed the Gray Wizard had more than a sneaking suspicion. He had to shake himself mentally to draw him back to the present; there was a _king_ who was about to claim in him in the most passionate of way- he couldn't afford to have his thoughts distracted by a ring.

The two of them worked on a sort of autopilot for several minutes. Bilbo adjusted himself on the table, Thorin hunting through the house with only vague instructions from Bilbo and a candle on a quest for some sort of lubricant before the two of them reunited. In the semi-darkness they met together once more in a passionate kiss as Thorin worked on Bilbo to get him ready for what was to come.

"To think," Thorin murmured, "that the very table where you joined our foolish errand…would serve a similar purpose once more."

Bilbo raised a brow in confusion. "Pardon?"

"You and I are joining in a difference sense, no?" Thorin halfheartedly teased.

Bilbo laid back against the hard surface of his dining table, his senses going haywire as Thorin began using his fingers in a sinful way; with the dwarf so close Bilbo could smell him fully and feel the warmth radiating off his chest. Thorin loomed above him, one of Bilbo's legs on either side of his hips. The dwarf's brows were knitted together in silent concentration as he applied the cool gel to himself and his lover, his gut fluttered as though filled with butterflies as doubt began to bubble up.

_After all I've done to him do I really deserve this?_ he wondered for the thousandth time. But a high pitched moan from the hobbit as Thorin twisted a finger around in him set his mind back to the desire he was feeling rather than residual guilt.

Likewise Bilbo was watching Thorin through lust filled eyes, half lidded in the pleasure he was feeling, wondering what would make Thorin, someone who had hated him at the beginning of their journey be willing to love him. _I am but a simple hobbit,_ he thought to himself, _and he is royalty…_ But that look in Thorin's eyes, a mix of determination, love and lust made Bilbo willing to forget his questions until the morning.

Sensing the hobbit's distraction Thorin took the chance to finally begin. He slipped into the hobbit so quickly that Bilbo's yelp of surprise was severely delayed. The pain was there to be sure, and it soon hit Bilbo full force, but he had to admit that he was glad he hadn't had the chance to become nervous before hand. Both males had sweat beading on their foreheads as Thorin began at first in a slow movement of rolling into Bilbo, but as Bilbo's grumbles and grunts of pain became pleasured mewls, heavy breathing and cries, Thorin increased the pace. Thorin muttered curses in his dwarfish tongue while Bilbo continued to gasp in pleasure and cry out if Thorin happened to hit a certain spot. Thorin's eyes swept over the form beneath him as their coupling began to intensify. It was then he noted the pained expression on Bilbo's face that was different than the pain of sex.

"Is something wrong, Love?" Thorin asked, stopping his movements.

Bilbo's face was contorted in pain as he arched upward. "The table…it's not as comfortable as I thought it might be."

Thorin grabbed Bilbo hips and pulled him upward slowly in order to not hurt either of them. Bilbo wrapped his legs around him once more, crying out in extreme pleasure at the shift in angle. "Shall we relocate then?"

Slowly the two began to maneuver through the hobbit hole on their way to Bilbo's bedroom. Along the way Thorin, being driven into a near frenzy by the soft moans coming from Bilbo would pin his back against a bare wall and thrust up into him, enough to make those soft moans erratic cries of the dwarf's name. The assault of kisses between the two kept them breathless. Thorin sensed Bilbo didn't have much will power left to hold him back from completion, so he made more haste to the bed chamber. Thorin had to rely on directions from the hobbit because there was no light in this part of the hobbit hole.

Upon finding Bilbo's room the hobbit found himself being tossed playfully onto the bed. The bed groaned beneath them as the two lovers tumbled onto it.

"That feels much better," Bilbo admitted through heavy breaths.

It was indeed an improvement from the table. Thorin was delighting in the fact he could tower completely over Bilbo, and Bilbo was relishing the fact that his back wasn't up against something so hard and stiff. The only bit of light in the room was moonlight that was streaming in through the windows, elsewise the room was dark. Thorin longed to see his surroundings, to see what Bilbo thought was good enough to decorate his room with, but it would have to wait until morning. The dwarf captured those lovely lips again and as well as re-entered the hobbit.

"Ah-"

Thorin gritted his teeth together. The sounds Bilbo was making were increasing in volume as the hobbit felt more pleasure, and with one look at how he was biting his lip, trying to keep the sounds from escaping Thorin knew he would be coming undone soon. As would he. Bilbo was clutching the sheets below him as Thorin continued to move, his thoughts in disarray and lost in a flurry of blissful pleasure. Bilbo looked up at Thorin, realizing for the first time his eyes had been squeezed shut. Thorin's eyes were staring at him, deep in concentration, sweat on his brow, his mouth slightly agape as he took in quick breaths. Those eyes, so deep with affection and lust were what finally did him in. Thorin, watching Bilbo climax beneath him with a loud grunt followed suit.

The room fell into quiet save for the heavy panting of the two. They parted from each other slowly, both aching in all the right places. Thorin got up from the bed slowly and pulled the covers up so Bilbo could slide beneath them before kissing his forehead and walking out the doorway. Bilbo felt more tired than he thought possible but he yearned to follow Thorin to wherever he was going. He gave a small whine of protest when he was left in the bed but Thorin didn't reply. The hobbit sighed and snuggled into the pillows. From down the hallway he spotted a light on the walls coming closer until it entered the room in the form of a candle that Thorin held.

"I blew out the rest of the candles and put out the fire in the hearth," he explained.

He placed the candle on the nightstand beside the bed and slipped under the covers where he was greeted with open arms. The king smiled contently against the head of curls and drew Bilbo in close.

"Was that to your liking?" Thorin asked. It felt as though this was how it was supposed to be; Bilbo curled up in his arms, their hearts beating rapidly together as one.

Bilbo hummed happily and gave him a squeeze. "It was more than that."

Thorin smiled and kissed the top of his head. "I'm glad you like it, Love."

"I love you Thorin."

The phrase made Thorin's heart skip a beat.

"I love you too Bilbo," he replied, but when he looked down the hobbit was already asleep.

He stayed up a while longer, gazing down at the slumbering form of his new lover, his heart light feeling with love and content. But his mind was still at work in the background. He knew he was in the Shire. His home—his throne—was in Erebor.

_I can't stay here forever._

But he wouldn't think about that until the morning. For tonight he belonged to Bilbo, his beloved companion and unexpected love. Thorin turned his head and blew out the candle beside the bed. He wouldn't think about leaving, not while the moon still shone in the sky. But dawn was coming quickly and so Thorin found himself lulled to sleep by the soft breathing of Bilbo Baggins.


	13. The Morning: Part 1

Ok, so change of plan. I was originally going to make this the last or second to last chapter, but I've decided to do a bit of breaking up of the writing. Having it all as one big chapter was kind of awkward-especially since I haven't written the rest of it yet. Look for more updates hopefully soon. Sorry It's been so long; college is kicking my butt right now. And again, thanks for reading!

* * *

Bilbo was roused from his sleep not in the dead of night by his nightmares, nor from his own cries and sobs. Instead he was awakened just as the sun was rising over the hills and trees by a loud snore from a figure curled next to him. The hobbit gave a start at the loud noise but slowly he began to settle back in the sheets, a smile on his face as he gazed as his lover.

The thought made him bolt upright again.

"L-Lover?" he whispered under his breath.

Thorin lay beside him, one arm shoved under the pillow, the other on top of it. His eyes were shut gently and his long black hair cascaded down his bare shoulders. Tattoos danced across Thorin's biceps; thick black tattoos that seemed to spell out something in Khuzdûl along with the same design that was on Bilbo's ear clip. Black hair covered the dwarf's arms and chest and continued on down the rest of his body if Bilbo remembered right.

As the previous night's activities came back to Bilbo the hobbit found himself sitting up in his bed, hand over his mouth, a blush blossoming across his cheeks. His eyes freely roamed over Thorin's body. He recalled the pleasure he had felt building in him as Thorin rocked into him at a pace that made Bilbo's toes curl with pleasure just recalling it. He remembered every moan he let loose past his lips and the groans that Thorin had replied with. And the creaks that his bed had protested with.

_He came all the way from Erebor to see me…and we…_

No morning before had ever felt so calm, so warm, so beautiful. There was a feeling in the hobbit's chest that made him smile without knowing why. All the doubt that he had felt over the months- did Thorin think of him? Was he missed? Did he ever have a chance with the king? Did he make a mistake?- felt petty and so far behind him even if those questions had been with him until only hours ago. Suddenly the Shire felt like it was more peaceful than it had ever been—more like a true home.

But there was hesitation. He had lived all 53 years of his life as a single hobbit, free to do as he pleased. To be with another person seemed so foreign. How would it be to have another person in the house with him? Sharing meals? Sharing a bed? Of course he had Frodo, but he was a child, one who needed a parental figure. Having a lover, a husband, could he deal with that? And then what of hobbit customs? Thorin was a dwarf and a male at that. There would be no great clan of children in Bag End; a home without children was unheard of in the Shire.

Reality was cold as ice as it washed over him.

Thorin Oakenshield was king of the Lonely Mountain. While he may be occupying the hobbit's bed that didn't mean he could or would stay.

_I won't make him stay._ Bilbo thought a bit sadly as he gently caressed a braid away from Thorin's face.

Biting his lip to keep words he would regret from coming out, he removed himself from the warmth of the bed to the fairly cold room beyond the sheets in order to shrug on his patch pattern robe. He made his way to the doorway and only then stopped to look longingly back at the larger male lying in his bed. Thorin looked so peaceful in sleep, undisturbed by the troubles of ruling a kingdom. It would be a shame to see him leave, but Bilbo had decided.

_He'll need to make his choice._

* * *

Even kings dream. And the King of the Misty Mountains was no exception. He dreamt of leaves of gold, red and orange falling in a light wind, carrying with them the scent of autumn. Rolling green and yellow hills stretched to the horizon along with the clumps of coloring forests, the air was dry and crisp and in his heart he felt warmth like a small fire in a hearth. He stood on a hill, facing towards the cold, snowy mountains so far away; it was his home and kingdom, Erebor. He knew he had a decision to make.

Arms wrapped around him from behind. Small hands clasped together at his stomach, a silent plea not to go.

_"Do you really mean to leave?"_

Thorin's eyes fluttered open. The morning sun was bathing the bed he was lying in, one he was slow to remember wasn't his own. He began to sit up but realized his state of undress. He settled back down in the bed in order to gather his thoughts. The pillows and sheets smelled like Bilbo, so much so he had in mind never to move from the bed. There was an indentation in the bed beside him but all the warmth from the body that had laid there during the night was gone. What did remain however was the burning question: "Do you really mean to leave?" Although it was a question from within his sleep Thorin knew it was a valid one. What did he mean to do now? His body sure longed to stay with the hobbit, especially after hearing those delicious moans Bilbo made during their love making. But his mind was still clouded with thoughts of his throne and subjects back in Erebor.

For the thousandth time since reclaiming the throne he wished he had been born a normal dwarf.

With an uneasy mind he glanced around the room for the first time. Sunlight poured in from the windows, pooling on the hardwood floors. The bed rested opposite the door and to his right wasn't too much space before the wall. On the left side of the room there were numerous bookshelves packed with books of all sorts. A rather large wardrobe sat in the corner, beside it a full length mirror and next to that a large cedar chest. He noted Sting was mounted with care on the wall out of the reach of Frodo. Next to the "letter opener" however was a sheet of paper, carefully framed with a gold painted frame. Curiosity getting the better of him, Thorin lifted himself with some difficulty out of Bilbo's bed and padded over to the paper.

"What-"

Staring back at him was none other than his own face. There was no mistake: that long hair, beard, his mail, he even had to admit he wore that sort of scowl too. This was the work of Ori. He had drawn portraits of each member of The Party while they were one The Quest and had composed a book of it. Bilbo had come into possession of it when he left Erebor and he had seen fit to mount the picture of Thorin to his bedroom wall and even frame it.

Thorin stood staring at the drawing for several minutes, his lack of attire only a distant thought in his mind, but the raging battle between Erebor and Bilbo waging in the forefront of his thoughts. It was the smell of cooking down the hall that drew him away from the picture.


End file.
